The Sampler Platter: A Little Bit of Everything

The Sampler Platter: A Little Bit of Everything Page 90

by Susan Skylark

Table of Contents:

  Beyond the Morning

  Upon a Far Mountain

  Into Shadow

  Beyond the Morning:

  The historians and astronomers and geologists will tell you that the world revolves around the sun and that the earth is round, but my dear child, they are all of them wrong. Yes, quite wrong, utterly and completely. Men once thought the world flat and that the sun revolved around the earth, and I think, perhaps men were wiser in those days. Of course, this is a fairy tale so I might be mistaken, but at least in this particular world this happened to be the case. In the beginning of things this world had been quite like all the others, but men did not like the way things were so they rebelled against Him who made the worlds and quite made a mess of things. So it was that the world literally fell to pieces, leaving it flat with little bits like islands floating to the East and a shadowy chunk lurking beneath, where nasty things lived and breathed and had their being.

  Mountains ringed the whole world about, keeping the water and most of the inhabitants inside, save for one small gap where the Great Sea found an outlet and fell in a great waterfall into fathomless depths below. But the sun boiled the water every night as it passed beneath this strange world and it fell again as rain very early every morning. Thus the Sea was fresh water (and not salt as you might think) and the world never suffered drought nor a rainy day that might ruin all the picnics. So in general, it was a rather prosperous and happy world. Except of course for that minor problem of man’s rebellion against his Maker. Besides for that minor glitch, it was quite a wonderful place to call home and an especially good place to have a picnic.

  But what was to come of that little matter mentioned above which brought sorrow, death, illness, and violence upon a once joyous and peaceful world? Well, things certainly could not remain as they were, for the Master loved his creatures far too much to leave them in such a miserable story so He came Himself to set things aright. To think that He who made everything would leave unimaginable Glory to spend time amongst the very things He created, naughty as they were. At first, they were quite happy to listen to His stories and benefit from His miracles, but they grew tired of His preaching and jealous of His power, so they did the only reasonable thing and killed the One who invented Life.

  Only you cannot kill Him, at least not forever (no matter what the skeptics tell you) and He lived again, but in dying He conquered Death and since the price of rebellion and sin is death, He just happened to pay for all the mistakes and bad deeds of His poor, sundered creatures. The only problem was, most of them were not interested in such a silly thing as redemption, thank you very much! They were quite happy with life the way it was and really could care less about such wondrous Love. They wanted to mind their own business and wanted Him to mind His, of course not realizing that their wellbeing was His business. So it was, that He went back to His place and left the world to do as it pleased, at least until that exciting day when He promised to return and stay forever and ever with his Creatures that really wanted to be with Him; the rest could spend all of eternity in a place where He would never bother them again and they could do very much as they pleased, which they would soon come to realize was not very much fun at all.

  The centuries passed and men multiplied and filled the whole earth, and with more people came the obvious problems of greed, war, strife, jealousy, and rage with the strong oppressing the weak, not to mention an increase in littering and other such crimes. Certain countries were better or worse than others in matters of justice and peace, as is always true of the lands of men. In this particular time and place, it was a rather peaceful and prosperous country that was more just than many lands in the history of this world. Its neighbors too were relatively peaceful which allowed them all to dwell for a time in quiet harmony. In the specific neighborhood where this story begins, there were a number of rather rich and influential families with any number of well-bred and educated offspring, all ready to make their way in the wide world.

  There were three boys who were quite good friends and had been since the dawn of time, or at least for as long as they could remember. There was nothing that could ever come between them, save perhaps those insurmountable forces of love and death, for taxes as we currently know them had not yet been invented. One of these young men was quite sick and on the verge of that dreadful enemy of mortality, or at least of childhood, yes, romantic love. He was quite sure he wanted to marry the most beautiful (and rich) girl in the neighborhood, and while his friends were quite happy for his good fortune, they really did not wish to see their little trio broken up. While our love-stricken Kyan was off romancing his ladylove, our two remaining heroes, Bayard and Griffin, fell in with an old man who told the most wonderful stories.

  He told them of things long ago and things yet to come, of a Great King who had left his Eternal Throne to dwell among mortal men. Of the Great Enemy who had left the service of this King long before the worlds were made, and his intent to corrupt or destroy all that his former Master had wrought, including mankind. They were intrigued by these tales, especially when told that even Today, men must decide on whose side they would live and fight, for it was a war older than Time and none could stand aside or plead ignorance. They must either stand with the King or fall with the Enemy. Quite excited by this prospect, the youths dashed back to find the missing member of their little company who was just bidding farewell to his darling, both with stars in their eyes.

  “I must soon propose,” said he, as if in a dream.

  “Yes, yes,” said Bayard impatiently, “all in good time, but come, there is something you must hear!”

  Smiling dreamily, Kyan did not resist his friends as they led him back to the interesting man who had so excited their young hearts. The man smiled upon the love-stricken youth, remembering his own days of courting, back when the world was new. Finally, the young man roused from his rosy visions enough to listen to those things the man had to tell. A thrill of excitement ran down his spine, for here was a purpose and a calling indeed!

  To tell the truth, the boys and most of their cohort were bored. They had every material pleasure their hearts could desire but it was not enough. Kyan thought himself in love, but mostly he just liked being liked and had no comprehension of the true meaning of the word Love. They had no purpose, no direction, no meaning. What was the point of living? But here was an explanation for why the world was as it was and a challenge to live a life of significance. Said the man in caution, “remember lads, the Master demands your whole heart and being, your very souls! There are those that oppose Him bitterly and you might well pay for your devotion with your lives. If you still wish to pursue this calling, come tonight when we shall all gather in one place.”

  The boys exchanged an excited smile as he told them when and where to gather, so too did the dark figure smile as he listened intently from his hiding place, but his grin held only eager malice, there was no joy in the gesture at all. The boys dashed off to further discuss these exciting revelations while the old man continued on his way. The dark figure went in search of reinforcements, for he wanted this to be a memorable evening indeed.

  Just because they had a secret meeting scheduled for later in the evening, did not mean the three lads could miss the biggest ball of the season. They dandied themselves up to perfection and looked forward to resuming their eager conversation in some quiet corner of the great house that hosted this evening’s festivities. But their mothers and the assorted ladies their own age expected them to dance unceasingly for the first part of the evening. Having accomplished their social obligations, Bayard and Griffin managed to slip quietly away but Kyan found himself unable to disentangle himself from Suzanne, who though very attractive this evening, no longer dazzled his mind into pure and utter worship. He tried time and again to join his friends, but the girl was persistent and would not loose her hold on his sleeve. Finally he said, “Suzanne you must let me go! I canno
t remain here any longer, for there is a needful thing I must do this evening.”

  She pouted quite alluringly, “I had hoped you meant to propose this night.”

  He swallowed hard, what had he been thinking to be so enamored with this girl? This would not be easy, but it must be done, he said as gently as he could, “I have come to realize I cannot marry you my dear…”

  He trailed off as she shrieked, “what!?!” at the top of her lungs and froze the dancers in their steps. Kyan blushed scarlet, but did not lose this chance to escape the clutches of his lovely and furious companion.

  His friends laughed merrily at Kyan’s predicament, but eagerly hastened to the secret meeting arranged by the old man. In the depths of the woods they met, with a glorious sky full of stars looking on and the trees standing in silent vigil about them. The embarrassed trio was the last to arrive and the old man said amusedly, “I was afraid you would not make it.”

  “Now,” said he to the dozen young men that had answered his call, “you are probably all wondering why we are here?” There were several murmurs of excitement as the man continued, “I invited you here tonight to learn more about those things that I hinted at in our previous conversations. You are those who seemed most eager for this mysterious calling. It is in no way required that you go any deeper into this matter if all you wish is to serve our Master in your daily lives, this you can accomplish quite easily in your day to day living by following those precepts I have already imparted to you. This meeting is solely for those who wish to know more of this ancient war and your potential role in it. If you commit to this venture, your lives are no longer your own. You will agree to dedicate them solely, and wholly for the use of our Master and whatever task he appoints each of you. There are those who oppose us with every fiber of their being and every power they possess; they will stop at nothing to thwart our Master’s will. This quest will claim your lives, whether it be tonight or a hundred years from now, I cannot say but you must know this before we continue. If there are any here who wish to leave at this point, by all means, get you gone.”

  There was some embarrassed shifting but no one moved. The man smiled grimly, “then if you are serious in this endeavor, I hereby swear you all to utter secrecy. What you are about to hear is known to very few who still walk this mortal earth. You know of the ancient war between the Master and His once great servant who has become His greatest Enemy. This Enemy does not sleep, nor is he willing to let mortal men live in peace. There are men abroad who have sold their souls into slavery to this dark lord, some even have entered a living death and have become terrible creatures that do naught but his will. What I ask of you this night is to join the ranks of those who oppose these vile men and their undead comrades, that your kith and kin might dwell obliviously in peace.”

  The three latecomers exchanged wide-eyed looks of wonder, excitement coursed through their veins. The old man continued long into the night, making sure his listeners fully understood what it was they were about to undertake. Finally he finished and asked, “are there any who now would stand aside?” No one moved. “Very well,” said he gravely, “come forth one by one and swear yourselves to this service.” And so they came forward, each stating his intention to fully abide by all the old man had said, and then taking a long draught of water out of an ancient flagon. “Now,” he said, once the last had come forth. “you are each sealed to this cause. Your duties and service will vary, but in the days to come you will each know what is asked of you. Let us disperse before our enemies find us, go back to your homes, and await eagerly your Calling.”

  The moon had risen and was well overhead by this time, giving plenty of light to the sojourners as they talked eagerly amongst themselves and started to slowly drift away toward their respective homes. All chaos suddenly broke loose amidst the scattered company as nameless creatures howled, wailed, and shrieked in the night, even as arrows and swords, claws and teeth struck wildly into the now panicked gathering. “Run!” shouted the old man, and then everything was terror and frenzy amongst the once eager initiates. Bayard screamed as something viciously sunk its claws into his back, but his two friends each grabbed one of his hands and drew him along in their flight. They found their horses still tied where they had left them, but mad with fright. They disentangled the panicky beasts, who needed no further urging to run. They galloped madly off into the night, heedless of holes or branches that might suddenly end their mad flight, only knowing that worse was behind than any danger that might lurk ahead.

  They almost thought themselves away, when a fiendish howl behind them fed fresh fire into their horses’ panic and the fear coursing through their own hearts. They prayed desperately to the Master they barely knew for salvation and wondered at the strange fate that would rob them of their lives the very night they decided to make something of them. Griffin’s horse screamed, as only a mortally wounded equine can, and went crashing to the earth with his master upon his back, crying, “ride, ride! My horse has broken his leg. Don’t stop, it will be the death of us all…”

  Bayard and Kyan exchanged a terrified look, wanting to stop their mad flight and aide their friend, but his cries were already lost as whatever was pursuing them fell upon their fallen friend. All they could do was ride on in horror and grief. They galloped on until morning, having heard no sign of pursuit since poor Griffin had fallen behind. The rosy shades of dawn revealed the Great Sea shining crimson before them as their poor beasts collapsed on the beach in exhaustion. A little boat lay upon the shore and beckoned to both of the exhausted boys; they exchanged a tired smile and quickly climbed into the little craft and put out to Sea. They soon caught the current that carried them swiftly east towards the sunrise and the end of the world. They collapsed into an exhausted sleep as the day brightened and the little boat floated gaily along, caught in the strong eastbound current.

  The sun had set and both boys roused in the cool of the evening as the first bright stars appeared in the darkening sky. Bayard moaned in agony, for his entire being felt afire with fever from the deep scratches he had received from some fierce beast on the night that seemed more nightmare than terrible reality. Kyan said quietly, “why are we at Sea?”

  Bayard smiled weakly, “it felt like the right thing to do at the time.”

  Kyan thought back to that surreal morning and nodded, “I know of a certain that it was the right thing to do, but where are we going?”

  Bayard shrugged and winced with the effort, “at least we left those fiends far behind.”

  Kyan implored, “but what lies ahead of us? We have no food, you are wounded, this current will bear us right off the edge of the map!”

  Bayard smiled, “we wanted an adventure didn’t we? The old man said this venture would claim our lives. It seems to me that perhaps death is just the beginning of the true adventure which we have set ourselves.”

  Kyan smiled thoughtfully, “I think you are right. What is the point of gathering such recruits if they do not survive their first night? There must be more to this strange story than we can even dream.” He frowned, staring at Bayard’s hand, “what is that mark on your palm?” Bayard frowned and looked at the indicated hand, trying to scratch away what he thought to be dirt. He looked at it more closely, the mark seemed a part of his very skin; it was the figure of a winged horse graven in black upon his palm. Kyan looked at his own hand and gasped when he saw the same image thereupon.

  “What does it mean?” asked Bayard.

  Kyan smiled, “it is the mark of Him to Whom we belong.”

  They drifted along for a few days with no sight of land. The weather was mild by day and not overly cool at night. The merry stars danced overhead and the Sea offered plenty of fresh, sweet water to drink. Hunger began to gnaw at Kyan, but Bayard was beyond noticing, for he was overcome with the fever from his wounds and had not stirred since the third morning of their adventure. By the fifth morning he was
barely breathing and by evening, Kyan was the sole survivor of their little trio. Tearfully, he eased his friend’s remains over the side of the faithful little craft and passed onward into the night. Morning brought a sudden end to his loneliness and hunger, driving them completely from his mind, for the edge of the world loomed before him, mountainous jaws towered on either side of him and the roar of the bottomless cataract filled his ears. He scrambled out of the boat as the cascade bore it over the edge and sat precariously upon the rocks on the very verge of the waterfall, slippery with mist and moss.

  “You cannot go that way, lad,” came a squawking avian voice just above his ear.

  Kyan looked up in astonishment to see a gull perching there. Kyan gasped, “where then should I go?”

  The bird shrugged and said, “you had best go home.”

  The boy frowned, “I am not sure how to get there.”

  The gull seemed to smile in amusement, “oh, you will undoubtedly find a way.”

  The boy’s only reply was a yell of terror as he slipped and plunged over the edge, but his infinite fall was of short duration, for strong arms caught him and held him firm. He looked up into the sparkling eyes of a man of indeterminate age who seemed vastly amused in his rescue. The boy wondered how the man held himself aloft when he suddenly glimpsed the great wings and head of some sort of winged horse; overwrought with hunger, grief, and surprise, he fainted dead away. The man shook his head in wonder and the great beast soon carried the wanderer home. He awoke upon his own lawn, thinking it had all been a peculiar dream. He sat up, put a hand to his throbbing head, and froze when he saw the mark graven into his palm. It had been no dreadful nightmare but the awful truth. Only then did he realize that his savior was still beside him. The man offered the boy his hand; the lad took it and he pulled the boy to his feet.

  Tears of confusion and grief were in the boy’s eyes as he demanded, “what does it all mean? What am I to do now? Did my friends die in vain?”

  The man shook his head and said quietly, “go see your family lad, from there your path will be clear. Do not doubt our Master’s will or your choices or those of your friends. Their sacrifice and yours are not in vain, even if we cannot yet understand the purpose in it. You will not be long sundered I think.” The boy nodded grimly, thanked the man for his aide, and walked boldly into the house.

  His family rushed upon him the moment he entered the house, demanding to know where he had been, where his friends were, and what had come of so many of the young men of his acquaintance. It seemed a dozen such boys had vanished from the neighborhood within the last week without a trace. “I am the last one,” whispered Kyan to himself.

  He could not tell them anything of much use and he hardly noticed their continued demands and confusion, busy with his own thoughts, until his oldest sister blurted out, “and Suzanne is set to marry Tyne.”

  Kyan said in amazement, “what is this?”

  His sisters tittered nervously and the eldest continued, “right after you embarrassed her at the ball, she ran off sobbing and the next thing we know, she’s engaged to Tyne.”

  Kyan shook his head in wonder, “how could she marry him? He is the meanest, cruelest boy in the neighborhood!”

  His sisters shook their heads in wonder at his lack of understanding, such things mattered little to a woman thwarted in love, especially if she was as young and inordinately passionate as Suzanne; she would seek solace wherever she could find it. He sighed, knowing what he had to do. “Where are you going now?” demanded his mother.

  He shouted over his shoulder as he dashed from the house, “to see Suzanne of course.”

  He ran quickly to her house, knocked upon the door, nearly trampled the poor maid who answered the summons, and burst in unannounced on Suzanne and Tyne. The latter snarled, “well, if it isn’t the star-crossed lover! You are too late, fool, your one time beloved is now mine!” Suzanne looked guilty, eager, terrified, and angry all at the same time but said nothing. Her heart pounded, wondering hopefully if they would fight a duel over her; oh, how exciting! Something in Tyne tingled with anticipation, “I had thought you vanished with all your foolish companions. A pity I was not there that night, you do not know how it could have availed me.”

  His cruel smile deepened as he laid his hand on his sword and drew it forth. Suzanne shrieked in terror and fled the room, perhaps a duel was not so exciting after all. Kyan took a nervous step back, but not before Tyne grabbed his right hand and turned the palm upwards. His smile became malevolence itself. He dropped the boy’s hand and revealed his own, on which a vicious dragon snarled. Tyne raised his sword and said, “perhaps your blood shall suffice after all.” The boy fell gasping, pierced through the chest by his murderous companion, who raised the bloody sword to strike again.

  “Enough,” came a firm, commanding voice, “stand aside and you need not be destroyed.”

  Tyne looked up in astonishment and rage, where had this stranger come from and what right had he to give orders in this, his moment of triumph?

  “It would be wise to listen,” hissed a third voice, “do not let hot blood and surging power overcome what little sense you have. You have not yet completed the Ritual and are vulnerable until you do. Leave the corpse, it is not worth your life and belongs to their foul Master.”

  Tyne looked utterly vexed and not a little confused but he backed away from the gasping, wide-eyed Kyan. The first stranger, the very man who had rescued the boy that morning, approached and knelt beside the dying boy, saying, “easy lad, it will soon be over.” The boy seemed to relax at his words and touch but each breath became more and more a struggle.

  Tyne whined, “why am I denied my triumph?”

  The kneeling stranger answered, “he has sworn himself body and soul to the Master, meaning even after his soul has fled, his mortal remains yet belong to our Master.” Tyne raised his sword threateningly, but both strangers only shook their heads at his foolishness. Finally, the boy’s struggles ceased and he breathed his last.

  “Come,” snarled the darkly clad stranger to Tyne, “you must complete the Ritual soon or you will meet the fate of your pathetic friend.” The pair vanished from the house, leaving the stranger to bear the dead boy whither he would.

  The great winged horse suddenly appeared and allowed the man to mount with his grim burden; both vanished from mortal gaze. They reappeared suddenly upon one of those strange floating islands beyond the eastern rim of the world. It was a small island with a great pool in the middle, covering all but the very edge of the little landmass. The man dismounted and lay Kyan on the grass ringing the pool, saying as he stood, “he is the last.”

  “At last!” came the voice of the diminutive old man, who not long ago had gathered twelve enthusiastic boys about him; in this curious part of the world he seemed to be a wizened creature of elvish-make. The mortal remains of his young protégés, or whatever could be salvaged of them, lay scattered about the edge of the pool.

  The man quickly climbed aback the Pegassi and the elf was not long in following after. The minute his passengers were aboard, the great beast took wing even as the pond overflowed its banks, immersing each of the twelve fallen youths in its mysterious depths. The water receded as quickly as it had risen, but instead of carrion in various states of decay, the water revealed twelve astonished young men, trying to comprehend what had just happened to them. The moment death took them, they each stood trembling before their Maker and gave an account of themselves, as all mortal men must one day do, but having sworn themselves to this peculiar service, the end of the interview was somewhat different than whatever they had expected. Instead of beginning an eternity with or away from their Master, they found themselves back upon the brink of Time, in a place where only legends lived: the Lands Beyond the Morning, though technically they were still on the earthward side of the sun, for poetical purposes, exceptions may be made.

/>   The flummoxed boys were quite beyond mortality but not yet residents of eternity. Their only purpose now, was to stand between mortal men and unendurable night. The ancient elf and his companion resumed their place on the turf, ready to answer questions for this new class of Messengers. Jubilant smiles and greetings were exchanged all around, especially as the young men began to recognize one another, a thing quite difficult in the night dark wood what seemed a lifetime ago.

  Said the old elf, “this is not what you had expected I think, but it will be quite an adventure and none of you will be disappointed in what is to come. Welcome to the King’s Messengers! As such, you are beyond mortality but have not yet entered Eternity, a thing you may do at any time, but from which you cannot return until the end of Time when our Master Himself shall come forth in triumph. Your main duty is to keep the undead servants of the Enemy at bay and protect mortal men from such terrible foes. But at times, you may find yourselves as guides, teachers, or giving warning to men in need of direction or purpose. Fear not, you will know what you must, when you must. You have many questions, but they shall find answer soon enough. Off with you now!”

  Suddenly, there was a great flutter of wings and none could look comfortably for the intensity of the light. Nearly a dozen Pegassi (a herd or a flock perhaps?) descended on the little gathering, each alighting beside his new companion. There was much joy in the meeting and soon, the whole lot of them were a-wing and aloft and vanished from sight, all that is except Kyan, the elf, and the elder Messenger. The latter pair exchanged a surprised look and gave a questioning gaze to the Pegassi, who shook his head grimly and blew out his nostrils in annoyance. Garren, the elder Messenger, said to the boy, “we cannot leave you to walk lad! Come, we shall give you a lift until this little matter can be straightened out. It seems your intended companion has said, ‘no!’ But we can work around this little inconvenience.” Kyan looked quite disappointed, but also very eager to see what this strange, new world held for him. He and Garren quickly vanished aback the ever patient Pegassi.

  They were once more in the mortal world, in Kyan’s very neighborhood to be precise. He smiled amusedly at Garren and asked, “and what are we to accomplish here?”

  The man shook his head, “that is for you to discover, we are only dropping you off. There is a reason we were sent recruiting into this neighborhood and why so many of you answered our Master’s call.”

  The boy smiled eagerly, “this shall be interesting then! Farewell!” But the man had already vanished.

  The boy shook his head and made his way into the great house whose doors stood invitingly open before him. He wondered at this sudden ability to know where he must be and what he must be doing there, but knew it was as natural to his new profession as once breathing had been to mortal life. He knew that there was to be a great party this night, at this very house, and also that all his companions would make a fashionable appearance during the course of the evening. The neighborhood would be quite astonished to see their vanished sons return without a clue as to where they had been the last week, but Kyan knew that he himself would not be recognized, though all of his companions would. There were those lurking about who might take his reappearance amiss when they thought they knew his true fate. He smiled in anticipation, it would be fun to come to a familiar ball as a stranger! He hurried into the house, eager to see what adventure lay within.

  The vile stranger led Tyne out into the gardens where a reptilian creature of vaguely equine shape and size waited impatiently for its dark master. They climbed aback the gruesome beast and suddenly the world spun. Tyne found himself in a place utterly dreadful. It was dark, warm, moist, and smelled of rottenness and filth. “Welcome to your destiny,” laughed his dark companion, “this is the Underworld.” Tyne gasped and the creature continued, “not the mythic realm of the dead, fool! This is a tiny world, an island as it were, beneath our own world. It ever lies in shadow from above, save as the sun passes beneath the world, then there is a slight lessening of the gloom as it passes but little more. It is populated by all manner of vile and loathsome creatures, anything that has slime, scales, course hair, venom, claws, fangs, or the like is undoubtedly found here. Here it is you must find your destiny. You may find a suitable mount to bear you on our Grim Master’s business or one of the wretched denizens of this drear place might take a liking to you and impart some of its own characteristics to you. Whatever happens, you will soon be a far more useful slave.”

  The boy did not look eager for this part of the Ritual. Sneered his companion, “refuse and you shall remain here indefinitely.” Tyne shivered, slid from the monstrosity’s back, and stalked deeper into the gloom, hoping the worst he came upon was some sort of reptilian horse like the creature he had just vacated. But his hopes were dashed as something unseen inflicted a painful bite upon his left arm. He screamed and fell, clutching at the wound, but worse was yet to come. His vile companion loomed out of the murk with a cruel knife in hand, he lunged at the wounded boy and completed what Kyan’s murder had begun. He took up the now unconscious form of the new recruit and once more mounted his horrid beast, leaving the mindless denizens of that miserable place again to themselves.

  It did not take Kyan long to spot Tyne, though this time there was something quite distinctly evil about the vile boy. Kyan shuddered but dared not approach his foe at the moment, instead, he melted into the growing crowd and sought out his companions. It was not difficult to find them, their assorted friends and relatives were quite surprised and relieved to find them apparently hale and hearty and gathered about them in an eager throng. Kyan fell in with Bayard, who smiled joyfully at his friend, whom no one else seemed to recognize. Bayard temporarily fended off most of his well-wishers with some bland excuse and sought out a quiet corner with his friend, said he with a grin, “we had no idea what to expect, but I dare say we shall not regret it in the least. How did your own adventure end?”

  Kyan shook his head in memory, it seemed something out of a forgotten tale, “I fell off the edge of the world, one of the Messengers rescued me, deposited me here, I met Tyne who had sold himself into evil, and that was the end of the matter.”

  Bayard shivered, “that would explain why he feels so wrong. We should apprise the others.”

  Kyan nodded grimly and they parted, each moving towards one of their companions. Griffin smiled excitedly to be reunited with Kyan, who returned the greeting with even more enthusiasm. The former was quite eager to hear Kyan’s tale and rather horrified to hear of what had come of Tyne. Griffin replied, “he then is likely one of those undead creatures we were warned about?”

  Kyan nodded, fingering his sword, “he certainly is.”

  As if knowing himself spoken of, Tyne approached Griffin and his unknown friend. He eyed Griffin curiously and ignored Kyan as unimportant. Said Tyne almost affably, “what came of you all? Your folk were quite convinced you had all run off to become pirates or some such.”

  Griffin shrugged, “we had a little adventure, that was all. And here we are again, boring as ever it seems.”

  Tyne frowned, “I had heard darker rumors.”

  Kyan burst in gleefully, “one should not believe everything one hears.”

  Tyne shot the insolent fool a withering glance and snarled, “keep out of this, wretch. You have no part in this.” Kyan shrugged noncommittally and took a step back from the conversation. Tyne growled, “who is that?”

  Griffin smiled, “just an old friend of mine.”

  Tyne scratched his head, “strange that I would not know him?”

  Griffin shrugged, “perhaps you just don’t remember him.”

  A dark smile lit Tyne’s face, “he had just better mind his own business, he would not like the way I deal with such pests. Do you not wonder what ever came of another of your old friends, one far dearer than this fool?”

  Griffin shook his head, “I suppose you mean
Kyan? He is about somewhere, no doubt. He‘ll turn up, we did!”

  Tyne laughed darkly as he walked away, “we shall see!”

  Kyan shook his head in consternation, “I wonder what he is up to?”

  Griffin shrugged, “I wonder how much he knows?”

  Kyan frowned, “he knew something had happened but was not specific as to what.” A new idea suddenly occurred to him as he smiled and said, “perhaps I should go pester him a bit more while the rest of you urge all and sundry to go home. I fear this will be a rather dull party, at least until Tyne’s friends get here.” They exchanged an eager smile and dashed off on their respective missions.

  It seemed the rest of their companions had similar feelings and soon people were leaving even before the party had begun. The weakest excuse seemed ample justification to leave and soon the poor host was left all alone, even his wife and children had accepted an invitation to go visit with a neighbor. He sighed, wondering perhaps if the champagne were not cold enough thus insulting everyone and thereby bereaving himself of guests, but suddenly he forgot his glum introspections as he felt a great urge to visit a friend he had not seen in some time. He dashed from the house, leaving only the eleven Messengers hiding from casual sight, waiting for whatever might come.

  Kyan had followed Tyne into a small adjoining room and there cornered the vicious boy and peppered him with numerous, inane questions. The irate Tyne tried desperately to rid himself of the irksome boy that he might rejoin the party and prepare for the intrusion of his promised allies, but the fool would not be gainsaid. Finally, in desperation, he grabbed the boy’s collar and pushed him back out into the main hall, only to gape about in amazement, for the corridor was empty. He picked Kyan up by his tunic and snarled into his face, “where is everyone, wretch?” Kyan smiled impishly, only to squawk in pain as Tyne buried his venomous fangs in the boy’s neck. Bayard’s sword pierced Tyne’s heart and banished the nearly reptilian menace with a shriek of rage that was swallowed up suddenly by silence as the creature vanished.

  Griffin knelt beside their prone friend, but Kyan made no response, apparently stunned by whatever venom poisoned the wound. Bayard shuddered, “how did he change from man to snake?”

  Griffin shook his head, “we have much to learn about the wiles of our Enemy and his servants.” He smiled eagerly, “as Tyne no doubt will have much to learn about us.”

  All conversation was lost as suddenly the room broke into complete chaos. Two dozen indescribable creatures, all hideous and bearing swords, broke into the room only to find it empty of anyone save their bitterest foes. Many of this vile horde had been among those who had fallen upon these very boys on a memorable night not long ago, but this time they were not lambs at the mercy of wolves. They fought desperately, the agents of evil vanished when mortally struck, as did the Messengers, but the Pegassi had the irritating habit of bringing their banished companions back almost immediately. So it was that only two of the creatures remained and they soon thought better of staying any longer. What was to have been an easy slaughter of an entire community turned into a rout and an embarrassing defeat. One of the creatures, a loathsome spider like thing, found the insensible Kyan en route to the door; he smiled, took hold of the prone form, and hastened out into the night. Bayard and Griffin followed, but the monstrosities had disappeared. They exchanged a grim look, but knew they had to trust Kyan’s fate to their Master.

  The two fiends fled to the Underworld, wherein most of their companions found themselves when so vanquished by their perennial foes. Several of them gathered about these last refugees, some glancing curiously at the inert burden borne by the spiderish fiend. “What you got there?” croaked a lizard like soldier.

  “There’s no pulse,” hissed a skeletal warrior, “fresh blood would be a welcome treat but all you have is carrion.”

  The spider shrugged, “it is at least more than you lot managed to salvage.”

  “Idiots!” snarled a more senior minion, “do you not know a Messenger when you see one?” They stared at him in horror as he continued, “he is merely stunned from a venomous bite and will soon enough recover. When he does, I doubt you want to be around to see it.” There was some uneasy murmuring and then the entire company vanished about whatever errands this minor adventure had interrupted. Kyan was tossed into a moldering puddle like so much refuse. He awoke not long after, his strange vision able to see quite well in the pitch black that usually engulfed the Underworld. He shuddered, wondering where he was and why anyone would choose to linger in such a place.

  “An excellent question,” came the unanticipated reply, which made the boy realize he had spoken aloud. The voice continued, “which begs the question, what are you doing here? You are no denizen of this place nor are you one of those unholy brutes that so often haunts this wretched plane.” Kyan frowned in confusion, moving deeper into the murk and the muck to discover the source of this despairing voice. He found a very pitiful sight before him, it was a Pegassi neck deep in the mire, coated in slime, and his once white coat usually afire with hints of the sunset was the color of wet ash. The wretched creature asked once more, “who are you and what are you doing here?”

  Kyan shook his head, “those vile creatures you speak of must have borne me here while I was insensible, before that I was attending a rather dull party.”

  The creature snorted in dejection, “I came here willingly, fool that I was. We will both die in this miserable place, but at least you have some chance at a happy ending. Mine shall be worse than even this lovely place.”

  Kyan frowned, “I did not think the Pegassi were of mortal stock.”

  He laughed mirthlessly, “only those of us foolish enough to defy our Master’s will! A thing was asked of me and I refused, fleeing here in hopes of hiding my shame.”

  Kyan smiled slightly as he said, “then why not go back and beg forgiveness?”

  He snorted in derision, “repent? Seek redemption as if I were a mortal man?” He cocked his head, as if suddenly realizing something remarkable, “that is not a bad idea! To think one of the Pegassi would ever need redemption, but so it is! Come lad, help me out of this mire and I may be able to get us both out of here before we rot.”

  Kyan uncoiled the handy bit of rope that seemed to have miraculously appeared in his possession, looped it over the great beast’s head, and then wrapped the loose end around a handy boulder several times before putting tension on it. Erian at first recoiled at the notion of having a rope about his neck but soon understood what the boy intended and as soon as the boy held the loose end firmly, he used the tension from the rope to ease himself out of the mire with the boy taking up the slack as he struggled forward. Soon enough he was free. He reared and shook himself and pawed the wretched earth in anticipation. “Now boy,” said he, “off we go! It is a rare thing for a Pegassi to carry a mortal child, but such is my gratitude. Come along.”

  Kyan shook his head but was soon aback the magnificent creature who easily winged his way out of that miserable land. They flew for a time beneath the bulk of the world and once upon the rim, where the great cataract fell forever into the Deep, the Pegassi landed and ordered the boy to dismount. Said he, “sorry lad, but mortal men are not allowed beyond the rim of the world.”

  “But…” came Kyan’s plaintive answer but the great beast had already winged away, Beyond the Morning. Kyan shook his head, smiled in amusement, and sat upon the mossy boulder to await the silly creature’s return.

  Erian had not flown far when he espied the ancient elf standing on a small floating island with a pool in its midst. The Pegassi lit on the grassy verge and said to the Elder, “I have been a fool!”

  The elf laughed and pointed to the water, “in you go lad, if it is forgiveness you seek and thereby life anew!” He plunged in eagerly and came forth shining like the sun. He reared in utter joy, but the elf motioned him to silence before he could
proclaim his wonder to the world. Erian watched curiously as one of his kinsmen alighted on the far bank, bearing one of the Messengers and what appeared to be a corpse. The Messenger dismounted and lay his burden beside the pool, remounted, and together the pair vanished. The pool then rose and engulfed the dead man and receded just as quickly, leaving an astonished Messenger in its wake. Erian’s ears perked up in excitement, was this his moment? No! There came a flutter of wings and another of his kinsmen joined the man on the far side of the pool before they both vanished upon errands unknown.

  Erian turned in confusion to the elf, “I have returned! I will agree to this service! What am I to do?”

  The ancient elf smiled sadly and said, “you have missed your moment of joy, lad, such is the price of rebellion.”

  The Pegassi’s ears fell in dejection, “what then am I to do?”

  The old elf laughed, “you have already met your appointed partner. The boy has chased you across the whole face of the world, was forced to beg a ride in order to accomplish what he must, and you left him sitting on a rock on the rim of the world!”

  Erian sprang into the air with a laugh, saying, “I wondered how he seemed to know so much about Pegassi!” And then he was gone in search of his missing partner. The boy stood as he saw the wondrous creature return and smiled to see him restored to himself. He hovered near the boy and said somewhat sheepishly, “I suppose I have been the cause of some trouble on your part. Forgive my thoughtlessness and let us be off!” The boy laughed, shook his head, and was soon aback the great creature and off to their next adventure.

  “We have to go back to our old lives?” came the astonished voice of one of the twelve Messengers gathered in the glade where they had held their first meeting. It was still the night of the rather dull party and with Kyan’s appearance, all of the local lads were now accounted for. The old man stood among them again, somehow managing to beat Erian to this meeting by half an hour, but time is of little consequence to those beyond it. The renewed Pegassi had landed, his rider joined his overjoyed friends, and then he joined his own eager kinsmen as the Elder began his address to the young Messengers.

  “You must go back to your old lives for a time,” said he, “you cannot all disappear indefinitely at the same time, it will cause too much of an interruption in your community and people might start asking questions. Besides, the Enemy has failed in one attempt to destroy your kith and kin, I doubt he will be long in trying to rectify the situation.” Having given his orders, the ancient elf vanished, knowing the young men would do their duty, no matter how strange the situation.

  The neophyte Messengers broke up into groups of two and three to discuss the matter; Kyan happily joined his two friends and recounted his recent adventure. “We are to go back as if nothing had happened?” said Griffin, after Kyan had finished.

  Bayard frowned, “are you not supposed to be murdered?”

  Kyan shrugged, “only Tyne is aware of that minor fiasco and he already knows something is amiss with all of us. Our families however are unaware of our recent adventures and must continue to be so, at least until we can all sneak away in a believable fashion.”

  Griffin nodded, then smiled, “so are you still set to marry Suzanne?”

  Kyan shuddered, “thankfully I broke that off before all of this, though I think she may still want to kill me.”

  Bayard grinned, “I thought Tyne already did that.”

  Kyan laughed, “not as thoroughly as he thought, but I am sure Suzanne would be happy to finish the job.”

  They shared another merry laugh, but three eager Pegassi interrupted any further mirth and urged their riders into their saddles. The other Messengers had already disappeared, en route home no doubt, so the three stragglers happily obliged their insistent partners. They were soon in their saddles and on their way back to their rather mundane lives, as if the entire adventure had never happened. As each neared their one time home, the three friends separated and went to their respective houses, each handing over his ‘horse’ to the waiting servants. The Pegassi shook their heads in amusement and tried their best to act the part of a mortal horse, so well did they succeed in their ruse that the servants thought each the dullest creature in their particular stable.

  Kyan entered via one of the side doors and was relieved to see that no one seemed to be home, but as he silently crept up the stairs and headed towards his room, his youngest sisters, a mischievous set of twins, interrupted his flight. They stared at him for a moment and then laughed in a pitch sure to bring his mother and eldest sister running, eager to scold him for not attending the lavish though quickly abandoned party, still in need of some explanation as to where he and his friends had been the last week, and still needing to chastise him for his appalling treatment of Suzanne. Within half a minute, the anticipated ladies had arrived and were doing a lovely imitation of a pair of upset hens while the mirth of the younger pair intensified threefold.

  Once the cacophony had wound itself to a murmur while the instigators finally slowed for air, Kyan said simply, “forgive me mother, I have been an undutiful son of late and can give no excuse for my behavior. As for my own tardiness, I spent much of my time sailing. But I hope my behavior in future will cease to alarm and discomfit you. As for Suzanne, I fear I was never meant to marry the poor girl, but she deserves better than Tyne!” His mother seemed mollified by his vague apology, after all, one could not expect too much of rich young sons. Then it was all to bed, the servants sighing with relief at the return of peace in the house. And so it was in all the houses wherein a young man had gone missing of late, save that of Tyne. He too returned home, but in a far from joyous mood and his parents feared him so much that they took the entire household, servants and all, on an extended trip to the seashore leaving him as sole possessor of the house, save a servant as ill-tempered as himself.

  Morning came, as is its wont, and after breakfast the young men went out to ‘amuse themselves’ for the day as was theirs. The party of the night before had been a tremendous bore and quite an embarrassment for its host, but since all and sundry had gone a-visiting as they had not in many a year, most had enjoyed themselves immensely, far more than they would have at another tedious party and thus forgave their host, and as the host’s house was in a decently untidy state he reckoned that the evening had not been a complete loss and thus forgave himself. As Kyan was going outside to commence with his socially prescribed daily amusement, a servant handed him a letter addressed to himself. He opened the missive and wandered out into the gardens, where Griffin and Bayard thus found him reading his letter. He smiled and said, “I was correct, Suzanne does want to kill me or at least wishes her brother to challenge me to duel.”

  Griffin laughed, “Fredrick is no match for any of us, he is the one who is going to get himself killed.”

  Bayard smiled thoughtfully, “I cannot imagine she wants you dead, she probably just wants to scare you into proposing, but I thought she was engaged to Tyne? And if so, why not have Tyne challenge you rather than her lovable but bumbling brother?”

  Kyan grinned, “she writes to say that her father will not allow her to marry such a person as Tyne and thus is forced to resort to drastic measures to restore her honor. I think you are quite right in your assertions.”

  “What are you going to do?” asked Griffin.

  Kyan smiled impishly, “why, accept of course.” The others stared at him for a moment in confusion but suddenly smiled eagerly in comprehension. Kyan continued as blandly as he could but he could not completely hide the amusement in his voice, “and my mother has asked the two of you to tea, she is quite determined to have my eldest sister decently married as soon as possible and has settled on the pair of you as likely candidates.”

  Griffin scratched his chin and eyed Bayard stonily, but a slight smile touched his lips, “I do not know that I like competition in the affairs of the heart. I may do something r
ash in such a case.”

  Bayard put his hand to his sword hilt and smiled, “you are welcome to try, but who is to say that you are the only hot-blooded fool among us?” It was some minutes before the laughter died away and they were able to speak again, for such things as romance and rashness had died with them and seemed quite foreign to their current sensibilities. Much did they wonder at how much such concerns could fog and distract a mortal mind and direct mortal behavior.

  By the time their conference had ended it was time for tea and so dutifully did they go into the house. Kyan quickly wrote a response to Fredrick, accepting his challenge while Bayard and Griffin sat with Kyan’s mother and eldest sister, enduring a lively conversation consisting solely of the banalities common to the ladies’ daily lives. By the end of the tête-à-tête, the pair was nearly ready to fight a duel simply to find something actually worth talking about. The three gentlemen then excused themselves under the pretense of going for a ride, to which the ladies gladly assented, wanting to discuss privately the meaning of every word and nuance of their conversation with the charming young men. Kyan sent his letter and the three retreated towards the stables where all three Pegassi were waiting for their errant riders.

  Once they were well away from listening ears, Erian remarked, “I never thought my first assignment would consist solely of standing in a stall and eating hay.”

  Kyan grinned, “nay my dear Pegassi, for soon you will be put through your paces and we shall see how fine a jumper you are. I have been looking for a decent hunter of late.”

  “Hunter indeed!” laughed the Pegassi, “but I suppose you can hardly sell me if I do not meet your standards.”

  Kyan smiled, “we shall see, but my sister’s pony is lame and she has begged the use of you.”

  They all laughed as Erian sighed, “at least aiding a lady in distress is a noble pursuit.”

  Kyan asked of his companions, “and what of your budding romance? By the looks of it, my sister and mother were quite pleased with your company.”

  Bayard said in feigned anger, “I would that this man kept away from the lady, ere matters grow dangerous.”

  Griffin sniffed, “are you threatening me sir?”

  Bayard grinned, “name the place and time and we shall see if this be threat or promise.”

  Griffin looked grimly at Kyan, “as this gentleman has already embroiled himself in a challenge, for the sake of convenience, let us all meet at the same place and time.” Bayard nodded with a grin, “that will suffice, sir. I look forward to the day.”

  They rode about until dinner, discussing their plans and enjoying the day. The two gentlemen were of course invited to dinner that their affections might increase thereby, no doubt spurred on by jealousy, or so thought the lady of the house. A reply to Kyan’s letter came after dinner proposing the morrow as the appointed day, if it were convenient. To this Kyan happily agreed and announced his intentions to all present, whereat Griffin immediately challenged and was accepted by Bayard. The ladies were quite excited by the prospect of not just one but two duels, how lovely! No matter the outcome, there must be much to talk over for years to come and if things turned out badly, was it not thoughtful of the gentlemen to save on funeral expenses by holding a joint service? It was all very proper and correct, no one could see anything to gainsay in the matter. Kyan quickly wrote an assent to the proposed duel and his mother sent out notices to all her kith and kin, thereby alerting the entire neighborhood to the morrow’s delightful affair. The ladies quickly withdrew to plan what they might wear. The gentlemen exchanged an amused smile.

  The disagreeable servant brought the news to his master, who stared at the stooped man in incomprehension. What were those boys up to? How is it that Kyan was still alive? A grim smile grew on his lips, he would see the boy dead once and for all. Tyne dismissed the servant and spent most of the night brooding on what this strange epidemic of dueling might mean and how he could use it to his advantage. After his dismal failure at the party, his masters were demanding something grand and terrible to befall the entire community, perhaps this was his chance.

  The day dawned far too cheerfully for a day that might see one or more of our robust heroes cut down in the prime of youth, but since that minor catastrophe had already befallen three of the four combatants, it was of little matter. They rode out in their best clothes and arrived in a timely fashion for the morning’s exercises, but all their acquaintance was already assembled and awaiting the commencement of the dual duels, also dressed in their best and bringing along food enough to last three days, whether in celebration, mourning, or both. Tyne too was present, lurking about the perimeter of the crowd, scowling at all and sundry so that none dared approach him.

  The combatants were quickly in position, with Kyan and poor oblivious Fredrick pairing off first. They listened to the rules, bowed to each other, and with a flourish of their swords, entered the deadly dance that must somehow restore a lady’s perceived honor. Fredrick was a terrible swordsman, Kyan was pushed to the limits of his skill trying to make the poor fellow look good. Finally, by sheer accident, Fredrick managed to land a fatal blow. So surprised was he that he dropped his sword once his foe had been so struck. Kyan collapsed, the crowd gasped, and then cheered, for it had been a rather rousing round of swordplay. The astonished Fredrick was welcomed as a hero by his equally flabbergasted folk, though Suzanne was not sure whether to feel pity, remorse, or satisfaction, so contented herself with absorbing as much of her brother’s newfound glory as she could, consoling her vanity thereby.

  The officials drug the loser from the field, allowed the celebrants to settle themselves in anticipation of the next round, and then called Bayard and Griffin to their places. The pair was quite skilled with the sword and put on an exhilarating display for the onlookers before fatally stabbing one another, the double tragedy adding exquisitely to the audience’s enjoyment of the day. Kyan’s sister was both appalled and thrilled to lose her two supposed lovers thus, but her mother was quite sensible of the boost this would give to both her own and her daughter’s social standing, it did much to console her for the loss of her son. As to that, the boy had chosen a perfectly acceptable means of perishing, and as he had done so before he could bring ruin or shame upon the family at some point in the future, and as it would gain her even more sympathy among all of her acquaintance, she was very nearly satisfied. All that remained was to have a lively funeral for the three, and after an acceptable time of mourning, she and her daughter might reap the benefits of such a tragedy for years to come.

  Tyne stood back and watched the fools and their antics, wondering what all of this malarkey was about and wishing he could summon some of his fellows to wreak havoc amongst this addled throng, but alas, it was too late to call for reinforcements and such was best done in secret, whereas here some might witness the slaughter and survive to tell of it. That and his masters little trusted him after his last botched assignment and would be slow to send him such help without a certain and sure plan for success. He would probably have to find some mortal reinforcements if he was to succeed and hoped to regain his masters’ trust thereby. If he failed again, it might well be the last time.

  Instead he approached the slain, who were momentarily forgotten in the tumult over the double tragedy. The field judges had drug them off to the side and laid them out on the grass as respectfully as they could until matters pertaining to the disposal of their mortal remains could be ascertained. The approach of the dreadful man drove the judges to some other, just remembered errand on the other side of the field, thus leaving Tyne alone with the deceased. He smiled coldly as he inspected the fools and found no trace of blood among the three of them, quite unusual for the aftermath of a swordfight. His smile deepened as he finally understood what the fools must be about.

  He suspected much of these three and their companions, but could only surmise the truth. Why would they stoop to duelin
g for so ridiculous a reason? If they were what he suspected, why duel at all? Especially Kyan and the pathetic Fredrick, the former was a poor swordsman, but the least experienced man in the world should easily be able to defeat the fool. The only answer could be that they wished to appear to die by an acceptable and believable means rather than to arouse suspicion in their former friends and family. Well, let them die as they would, it was nothing to him, save perhaps as an indirect means of furthering his own schemes. He turned and quickly walked away, leaving the others to carry out a most grand and impressive funeral.

  After the throng had had a chance to gawk at the deceased and then wandered away to mourn via feasting, the lids were nailed on the three coffins and the matter seemed finished, but the Messengers awoke to find themselves in a dark, confined space. Being of a rather strange physical composition, it was quite easy for them to simply stand and step through the solid wooden box, unseen by any mortal eye. The three briefly paid their unseen respects at the ongoing party and content in their success, retreated into the twilight.

  “I cannot believe you were bested by Fredrick,” said Bayard to Kyan.

  The boy smiled at the memory, “a child with a stick could have bested the poor man; I had to fight hard to lose! But at least I did not allow a woman’s affections to tempt me into a duel wherein I killed my best friend and he me.” He eyed his companions stonily and then smiled; they readily joined in his amusement.

  Once their mirth was again quiescent, Griffin said, “we had best get on with our next assignment.”

  “And what would that be?” asked Bayard.

  Kyan replied, “we are about to become horse thieves.”

  Bayard shook his head, “but that is a hanging offense.” Then he laughed, “of course what does that matter to us? Come!” They dashed after their energetic friend but soon took to the shadows as they approached the revelers once more, for they knew themselves again visible to mortal sight, though they would appear to be strangers even to their closest kin. They shared an amused smile as they studied one another, such ragged and dirty men were not often seen in this prosperous part of the country, at least not by those who frequented only the best of society. The Pegassi stood quietly with the other horses, waiting for their young masters to return, rather amused by the whole ordeal. The horses sensed the approaching men and eyed them curiously, one whickered in greeting. The Pegassi watched the intruders intently, not yet recognizing who these villainous seeming youths actually were.

  When Kyan approached Erian and tried to swing into the saddle, the Pegassi reared back, tossed his head, and flung the offender off his back. The boy sat where he had landed with a quizzical look on his face as he looked at the Pegassi; the laughter of the others drew a rueful grin, as he realized he was the only one who had attempted to gain his saddle while the others waited and watched. Kyan stood and approached the irate Pegassi, who continued to toss his head and eyed the intruder with fire in his eyes.

  “Forgive the intrusion my dear Pegassi,” said he, “but I fear there has been something of a misunderstanding.”

  Erian frowned, squinted at the boy, and reared for joy, “a good disguise that, if it can fool even me! I cannot allow every fiend who happens along a ride now can I?”

  Kyan laughed, “well, I am not just any fiend, you know. Now come, you are being stolen.”

  Erian shook his head in amusement but finally allowed the young Messenger into the saddle; the others were already mounted and waiting. The Pegassi made a bit more fuss, just to make it look authentic, and then the three stolen horses and their villainous riders vanished into the deepening night. The revelers looked up from their amusement and were astonished to see such villains in their midst and making off with three of the best hunters in the county. Several of the men were quickly in their saddles and giving chase, but the thieves had vanished without trace. Now there was even more to talk about so the party continued into the early hours of the morning.

  As the rosy tints of dawn were creeping into the world, Fredrick found himself riding sleepily home with two other young men of his acquaintance, still thrilled with his triumph of the previous day and happily looking forward to his bed. They had just crested a large hill, when three disheveled men came riding up the opposite side at the gallop with swords bared and voices raised. This unanticipated din, on a once peaceful morning, that had so suddenly interrupted his happy ruminations threw Fredrick’s mind into helpless confusion, but his companions were not so easily cowed. They drew their swords and urged their horses into the fray, only to fall dead from their saddles and have their horses taken as plunder. Fredrick saw what had come of his companions and quickly turned his horse and fled the scene.

  “Not a bad show,” said one of the captured Pegassi, “this ought to give the folk hereabouts something to talk about for years to come.”

  Bayard laughed, “enough chatter, you are a captive, remember? We had best move along before Fredrick returns with help. It will be a busy week for funerals.” The three Messengers and five Pegassi retreated from sight while the two ‘slain’ Messengers lay unmoving where they had fallen, allowing their folk to think they had met a tragic but heroic end.

  It was truly a tragic week for the little community, but never had they had such things to talk about! Besides the duel and murderous horse thieves, one young man had died of food poisoning from something consumed at the first funeral, another had been bitten by a snake, one was trampled by a stampede of sheep, and one was flung from his horse. People began to edge away from the three ‘survivors’ of the original dozen young men, thinking the lot of them were now somehow cursed. Wishing to avoid more socially awkward moments, the three proposed to go out and hunt down the horse thieves that were now terrorizing the country. Fredrick said he would love to go with them but alas, someone must stay home and protect the ladies, a sentiment which Kyan’s eldest sister thought quite heroic and soon she was making eyes at the man who had supposedly killed her brother. So the three intrepid youths rode out to put an end to the thievery, only to be found dead after what must have been a valiant effort on behalf of all their folk.

  This last funeral was the grandest of them all, causing Kyan’s mother to lament, “if only he had lived to die like this, so much more heroic than losing a duel.” The aggrieved mothers seemed to be in a contest to see whose son could die in the most romantic or tragic manner. But at least the curse seemed to be over and people could go about their lives without fear, at least of anything save horse thieves. And sinking again into complacency was just what Tyne wanted them to do, now that all of their potential guardians had vanished from the countryside.

  The band of horse thieves now numbered a dozen individuals and never had any of the locals seen such haggard and grim looking men, at least from a distance, for none dared get closer than absolutely necessary. They seemed to haunt the entire countryside, appearing just long enough to send the now wary populace running for their lives, and each encounter grew worse with the retelling. Tyne listened with interest to these rumors and fears, desiring to harness this terrified energy for his own purposes. The people were far from complacent, but perhaps terror was an even better ally for his burgeoning plans. First he must track down this band of reprobates and see what use he might make of them; he had to be certain they were truly mortal men and not his bothersome foes in disguise. He asked his vile servant if he knew where these men hid themselves or if he could find out. The man smiled eagerly and said he would know by nightfall. Tyne’s return smile chilled him to the bone as he dashed from the house in pursuit of information.

  The man would have had difficulty locating this enigmatic band of so-called thieves and murderers had they not wished to be found, for not requiring sleep or food and having the ability to hide from mortal sight made them impossible to track down by any mortal means. But as the sole purpose of this little farce was to draw Tyne and his allies into a trap and hop
efully rid the neighborhood of the villains permanently, the Messengers began to lurk in places they had never dared enter as mortal men. But as near legendary murderers and thieves, they could go wherever they pleased and were very nearly worshipped by lesser criminals. So it did not take the vile servant long to locate a representative of the band and discuss a potential meeting. The chief villain agreed to the meeting, arranging a time and place for a conversation of mutual advantage, or at least that is what the servant promised. The villain did not seem overly impressed by what was said by the servant of his dread master and promised that if things were not as profitable as the servant assured, things would not be pleasant for said master or his minions. The servant shivered, but it was a feeling of far less dread than his master inspired thus did he flee home to tell all that he had seen and done. The servant’s report intensified Tyne’s thirst to know more of these villains and to use these wonderfully vile criminals for his own ends; their leader minded him much of himself, which must be a very good thing.

  Kyan shuddered after his interview with the vile servant, disliking the feel of the man, but eager for this final confrontation with Tyne. He disliked inspiring fear in the general populous but it was vital to their mission. Nothing ever actually happened to the persons or property thereabouts, but enough eerie sightings, dreadful rumors, and tales of murder and mayhem (albeit exercised on those who were a part of the scheme) were enough to inspire a general dread in the neighborhood and thus attract Tyne’s interest, but how to keep him involved when he discovered the true identity of his foes? They might be able to fool his eyes, but there were certain oddities that could not be hidden from his notice. Kyan sighed, stood, and left the shabby tavern where his conference had taken place. Bayard and Griffin emerged from the bushes and said that the servant had ridden quickly off in the direction of home as soon as he had vacated the inn. Tyne would soon have his heart’s desire, now to prepare for the meeting. They mounted their waiting Pegassi and within a moment were standing in the clearing where their first meeting had taken place. The trio was the last to arrive, as usual, and Kyan quickly explained things to everyone. The obvious question was broached: how to avoid betraying their strange nature to their enemies until all was finished?

  A sudden silence fell on the glade and every man and Pegassi present was immediately on his knees. A brilliance too bright to look upon filled the clearing and when it had diminished, a little magpie perched on a branch in their midst and said in a sing song voice, “now you can do what you must and your enemies will not know you.” With a flit of His wings, He was gone.

  As they regained their feet, there was an uneasy stir among the Pegassi, for all save one had never felt this particular sensation before. The Messengers had spent most of their existence in this condition so it was nothing new, only a surprise to feel it again. “What has happened?” gasped one of the lovely creatures.

  “I feel quite strange,” came another.

  Erian shook his head, “we are mortal creatures!”

  There was a communal gasp and much uneasiness until Kyan quieted the Pegassi and Messengers alike, “this is vital to our mission, we will no doubt be restored when all is finished here.” At this, they began to relax and their thoughts returned to their quest, to which they looked forward with much relish. The time of the meeting was drawing near and as they must now get there by a more traditional means, they were soon in their saddles and off to keep their tryst.

  Night had fully fallen by the time the company had gathered themselves on the great lawns, now overgrown, at the back of Tyne’s family home. Most of the men remained in their saddles, swords at the ready while Kyan and his two friends dismounted and approached the waiting Tyne. He laughed at their vain precautions, for if they truly were mortal men they could do nothing to hurt him, but they would not know that. The three stood before Tyne and Kyan demanded, “what is it that you so boldly propose that would be of benefit to me and mine?”

  Tyne sneered, “I am the master here and I will speak when I see fit. You will learn respect or you will die.” He drew his sword and thrust it deep into Kyan’s chest; he smiled upon seeing blood quickly pour forth from the wound and covering the gory sword as he pulled it free. He smiled down upon their lifeless leader and said to the now agitated band, “that was to teach the rest of you manners, it was too late for your chief. Now that you are leaderless, I will fill the vacancy. Any man who rejects this offer can do as your captain and die. Any volunteers? Good! You have done a most excellent job of terrorizing this neighborhood, but I do not simply want to terrorize but to destroy and I will use you to do just that. You are welcome to any plunder that remains afterward, but all these silly and pathetic folk will soon be put to the sword.”

  He had found his mortal allies, now to contact his dread masters and ask for some help of a more useful nature. These fools would be a start, but for a slaughter of this magnitude, he would need even more help. He ordered his new recruits to hide in the woods until morning and promised whatever they needed would be supplied; he also asked that they dispose of their chief’s carcass while they were at it. Tyne then turned and went back to the house, leaving his servant to see to the demands of his new minions. Bayard took over leadership of the company and ordered two of the Messengers to see to Kyan while he treated with the servant in order to procure food and supplies. Once the company was settled for the night and all unfriendly eyes gone from the camp, Kyan sat up and looked around.

  Bayard saw that his friend had revived and quickly told of what had come to pass. The boy smiled as he wiped blood from his mouth, “so he is convinced we are mortal men, good! You continue to lead and I will pass as just another ne’er-do-well hoping to make his way in the world with as little trouble to himself as possible. Speaking of which, I suppose I had best get myself cleaned up. Real bandits never have to take a bath!” He vanished in the direction of a small creek and the company tried to get what sleep they could.

  When the servant came to check on the mercenaries in the morning, he found them hungrily awaiting the food he had promised for their breakfast. He was not sure how many there were supposed to be, but there seemed to be as many as there were the previous night and they had apparently even disposed of their late captain as ordered. He smiled, thinking his dread master had inspired such obedience, but his face hardened as he said, “tonight we shall test your loyalty. My master has summoned reinforcements and they should be here this evening, at which time the slaughter will commence. Afterwards, the neighborhood is yours to plunder.”

  They stared stonily at him, apparently not trusting Tyne’s promises after his dealings with their chief, but it could not be helped. He gave them their slop and returned to his master, certain that none of the fools would survive the coming slaughter though they would help in implementing it. Tyne had been successful in his pleas to gain reinforcements, his recruitment of such mortal filth and his proposed plan were enough to appease his masters and grant him a reprieve, but if he failed again, it might well be the last time. But, smiled he to himself, there were other ways to gain approval in the dark auspices of his master. The servant had just entered and reported on what had passed with the recruits when Tyne bid him bring the new chief of the company. The man shivered, not liking the hungry tone in his master’s voice, and returned to those he had just left and ordered Bayard into his master’s presence.

  Said Tyne as he paced back and forth before the chief of his minions, as a master before his pupil, “do you want power beyond this mere mortal pittance you are allotted?”

  Bayard looked uneasily about and shifted his feet, as he said, “I am content with my lot.”

  “Fool!” snarled Tyne, “do you not aspire to more?” Bayard noncommittally shrugged his shoulders as Tyne’s more serpentine side presented itself. “Will you not obey, slave?” snarled the snaky abomination. Bayard took a step back and Tyne struck. The servant entered soon
after, summoned by his master to clean up the mess. The servant shuddered but quickly withdrew to the camp to get help in disposing of their second captain in a twelve hour period. At this rate, there would be few left for the evening’s excitement. Tyne paced the floor, greatly annoyed that anyone could be so foolish as to refuse such an offer, at least it was only a minion and he had extras. The thought of the evening’s entertainment immediately brightened his mood.

  They drug Bayard back to the camp, where he lay unmoving for several hours, but eventually the effects of the venom wore off and he awoke. Griffin was now in command of the company as Bayard withdrew into the nameless ranks of common soldiers, his face changed that Tyne might not recognize him. Kyan grinned, “Tyne is certainly hard on his officers.”

  Bayard shivered, “I do not like the snakish side of him in the least.”

  Kyan said quietly, hand on his sword hilt, “perhaps tonight will make an end of his evil.”

  The sun was setting when Tyne presented himself to the company and ordered them to mount up, for the hour had come. They were quickly armed and in their saddles, riding out as the day sank into night, a fitting metaphor, for it seemed a shadow had fallen upon the world. As they rode along, strange and evil looking creatures, having the appearance of mutilated and twisted men, came alongside them. The Pegassi beautifully acted the part of uneasy horses while the men were equally perturbed, for their hands itched for their swords that they might banish these dreadful foes, but not yet. Finally Tyne called for a halt in the midst of the neighborhood, snarled he, “leave no survivors. Let nothing that draws breath continue to do so.”

  Growled one of the evil creatures, pointing at the mercenaries, “what of them?”

  A rank smile touched Tyne’s lips, “do they not breath?” He had at first planned to have the mortal scum take part in the slaughter, but he now had enough help that it made their presence superfluous; they had been merely a means to an end. He had meant to destroy them afterwards, but why not start with them? As Tyne spoke, the Messengers drew their swords and made ready. “Death!” snarled Tyne, and his minions leapt into action.

  Much to their dismay, it seemed the ragged company was not as helpless as they had assumed. While they could still rend flesh and kill, the swords of these infidels could wreak equal havoc amongst the undead creatures, banishing them temporarily to the Underworld. A hideous spider like creature flung itself into Griffin’s saddle, tearing out his throat even as he stabbed it in the chest, two others soon overcame the Pegassi. The vanquished creature vanished while Griffin regained his feet and dispatched the two minions that had killed the Pegassi, who was again on his feet. All around him the vile creatures tangled with the Messengers, thinking themselves triumphant only to find themselves mortally struck and thus banished. The first mortal blow freed the Messengers from the constraints of mortality but a second would banish them likewise, but the Pegassi were quick to fetch them back to continue the fight until only Tyne remained. He stared at them aghast, now recognizing each of them and what they were; those who had been twice struck appeared as fell warriors slightly illuminated by some inner light while those who had been struck once looked to be the ghosts of murdered men, eager for revenge. Tyne could not decide which was the more terrible to look upon, but searing anger was building in his heart to the point of desperation, his failure could mean the very end of everything, including himself! He lunged with sword and teeth at the nearest to him, eager for vengeance. He was quickly vanquished by his too numerous foes, and at last the local folk could finally live without fear, oblivious to all that had passed in the night.

  Kyan took in his entire company and smiled, “we are a loathsome sight but we have fulfilled our mission. I think we had best vanish before anyone notices we were ever here.” But there was one amongst them that was slow in regaining his saddle. Ithril and his Pegassi had come through the fighting unscathed and thus still wore mortal flesh while the rest had been restored to their previous state. Kyan asked in surprise, “what of you?”

  The boy shook his head, “I think we have something yet to accomplish, but then, so do the rest of you.” Each seemed also to know this and after a hasty farewell, they vanished in a flutter of wings and light, all save Ithril and Bayard. When mortally struck, the latter had vanished but his Pegassi had quickly fetched him back; with the disappearance of Tyne and the other Messengers, he now looked a common boy in unremarkable clothing.

  Said he to Ithril, “we had best disappear ourselves before someone comes to see what was causing such a ruckus just now.”

  Ithril nodded, happy to be in company with his one time cousin and friend, but before Ithril could mount, a groan caught his attention and he turned to investigate the sound, for none of the combatants should have left a physical body behind. But there, under an encroaching bush, lay Tyne’s vile servant who had been bitten by one of the hideous creatures and then forgotten. The Messengers exchanged a worried look, they could not abandon the stricken fellow, but they knew in their hearts that such a wound carried dire consequences.

  Bayard took up the prone form and easily heaved him onto the Pegassi’s back, saying, “I will bear him to Tyne’s former home and meet you there.”

  Ithril nodded, mounted, and galloped into the night while Bayard and his mount vanished with their grim burden. Ithril saw to his Pegassi’s comfort after the harrowing night and then entered the house, wherein a single candle burned in one of the lower rooms. Bayard had stripped off the man’s tattered clothes, bathed his wounds, and tried to make him comfortable, but he was already feverish and raving in delirium. Ithril entered the room, studied the patient, and exchanged a grim look with Bayard.

  Garren suddenly appeared, greeted his junior colleagues, studied their senseless companion, and shook his head grimly, saying, “this is not good lads, it would have been far better had they killed him outright, instead he will sink further into a delirium and eventually madness. He will lose his sapience and become a monster like unto that which wounded him, with an insatiable appetite for human flesh.”

  “Can nothing be done?” asked Bayard anxiously.

  Garren shook his head, “there is no cure save death yet that we cannot mete out.”

  Ithril frowned, “what is usually done with such hopeless cases?”

  Garren sighed heavily, “we can only turn him loose in the Underworld, where he can hurt no living creature. I will bear him thence.” He took up the now raving form, getting bit several times for his trouble, and vanished aback his Pegassi. The remaining pair shuddered at his fate.

  Ithril sat heavily on the now empty bed, haggard and worn from the trying events of the day. He felt rather feverish himself; he gratefully lay down and was soon asleep. Bayard had momentarily forgotten his companion’s lingering mortality in their concern for the servant, but ruefully he remembered that the lad had come through a harrowing experience and had not the reserves of eternity to fall back upon. He blew out the candle and withdrew from the room, allowing Ithril to rest undisturbed. He went out into the night to take in the peace and beauty of the stars, but before he could do more than ascertain that they were still in their places, Ithril’s Pegassi approached him. The creature, for now a mortal horse, said in concern, “what came of the injured man?”

  Bayard shook his head, “there is no cure, he will become whatever it was that bit him, save his mind will be gone and only the beast will remain. He has been exiled to the Underworld to protect mortal men.”

  The Pegassi blew out his nostrils, “and Ithril?”

  Bayard said, “he is sleeping, the day has been hard on him.”

  The Pegassi shook his head, “no, will he suffer the same fate? He was attacked by some wolfish creature, but was able to fend it off before it killed him, though his wounds are far less than those of the stricken man you just banished.”

  Bayard shuddered to think of the same befalling his kinsman
and friend, but while his flesh was mortal, his mind, heart, and soul were the Master’s and could no longer be touched by such evil, could they? Garren returned from his grim errand to find the perplexed Bayard and the worried Pegassi deep in council on the overgrown lawn of the great house. Bayard explained their predicament and Garren scratched his head, “that is a puzzle! Rarely do mortal men suffer this fate and even more seldom are the Messengers wont to wear mortal flesh, but thus has it happened. He will not lose his mind or soul as the other has done, but who knows what his body will do and how much control he will have of it. The easiest solution would be to find someone to kill him before he becomes dangerous.”

  The Pegassi snorted, “and who are you going to find to do that? We are incapable of such a feat and it is not as if we can explain our situation to just anybody. Can’t we just drop him from a height?”

  Bayard laughed at the oddity of the discussion, “we are incapable of hurting mortal men, anything we do would be fruitless.”

  Garren smiled, “we will just have to watch and see what happens; he must abide by the same restrictions as the rest of the Messengers, therefore I doubt he can do much to hurt others.” They returned to the room where Ithril slept, noting he had slipped into a delirium as had the servant. Bayard sat beside the bed and Garren went to inquire of the Elders as to what could be done.

  Ithril woke late the next morning, parched and ravenous, Bayard offered him water and food. He drank his fill but would eat nothing but meat; his eyes had taken on an odd yellow color and now held a predatory gleam. Twice he tried to snap at Bayard, but his teeth closed on thin air, teaching him not to bite the hand that fed him. He snarled and returned to his meat. Bayard shook his head, not liking the changes wrought in his friend. Sated, Ithril rose and dashed for the door. Bayard tried to block him, but the boy dashed straight through him and made his escape. He dashed madly about the great house, trying to find some escape until he finally jumped through one of the windows in desperation. Bayard followed, running through the wall and out onto the sunny lawn. He stopped in astonishment and fear, for a fell warrior of a race or people unknown to him stood on the lawn with spear in hand. The crazed Messenger paused for a moment in fear of this dread warrior, but then snarled in wrath and leapt upon this creature that would dare stand in his path. The spear flew and caught the maddened boy in mid-leap. He collapsed with a whimper and lay still, as the grim warrior pulled his weapon free, Bayard swallowed his fear and ran to his fallen comrade’s side.

  The warrior stepped back as the second Messenger approached and watched silently as Bayard knelt beside Ithril. Though a great hole now gaped in his chest, the boy suddenly groaned, put a hand to his head, and sat up, smiling at Bayard. He then turned his gaze to the dread warrior, and said, “thank you.” The warrior bowed and strode quickly away.

  As Ithril regained his feet, Garren appeared, seeing Ithril in his right mind brought a smile to his face. He nodded to them both in greeting and said, “the elders sent their answer I see.”

  “Who or what was that?” gasped Bayard.

  Garren replied, “he is of the race of the elders, a fierce warrior of a people unknown to man. They have never rebelled against our Master and have thus never known death. They dwell on one of the larger islands beyond the eastern edge of the world.”

  Ithril grinned, “I never thought to thank someone for killing me.”

  Bayard shivered, “I am glad your mind is again your own.”

  “As am I,” whinnied the Pegassi as he trotted up, “but alas, I am still a mortal creature!”

  “Easy my dear friend,” smiled Ithril, “we shall wander the world together for a time and see what adventure awaits us.”

  The Pegassi snorted, “I could not ask for a better companion, but I hope you have no more intentions of biting anyone.” Ithril smiled and embraced the arching neck.

  Bayard grinned, “shall we be off then?”

  They were both soon mounted and on their way, but a quick detour to the Lands Beyond the Morning were needed to restore Ithril’s physical visage to some semblance of normalcy. His Pegassi waited patiently while the others quickly completed their errand and then they were off as fast as a mortal horse could reasonably travel.

  “I do not know why I must go on this visit of state rather than my father,” moaned the young Prince Gyor.

  “Obviously there is a Princess involved,” said Tabor, the only son of an influential lord and the Prince’s closest friend and advisor.

  “I should have known,” groaned the Prince in even greater dejection, “whatever am I to do?”

  Tabor grinned, “marry her I suppose.”

  The Prince frowned and said, “that is hardly helpful my lord Tabor, but that gives me a rather curious idea. These Royal foreigners have never seen me or you, why don’t you pretend to be me and marry the loathsome creature in my stead?”

  Tabor arched an eyebrow and said, “can you be serious Sire? Would it not be some sort of treason to deceive them so? Could it not result in war?”

  “If that is all that concerns you, fear not, for I shall simply pass the crown to you and the grasping woman will have her Prince,” said the unconcerned young Prince. “

  I still do not like it,” said Tabor sternly.

  The Prince sighed, “defying me will be treason, sir.”

  Tabor sighed, “very well Sire, as you wish it, but any consequence of this action shall not be of my doing.”

  “Agreed,” said the Prince happily, having finally found something to make this trip interesting. At their next stop to rest and water the horses, the lordly pair exchanged their accouterments that the one might pass for the other, and with none the wiser, they continued on their journey.

  They had declined the King’s offer of a company of soldiers and an assortment of servants to accompany them, maintaining that they could survive quite happily without such an encumbrance and that there had been no known danger on the ancient road in the last hundred years. Of course, as in all such tales, the noble pair was undoubtedly wrong, but a legion of soldiers would not have availed them against such foes as were soon to fall upon them. Tyne, now dreadfully out of favor with his superiors, was determined to succeed in his next assignment, else he might be banished forever to the Abyss. Fomenting war between two Kingdoms could not be that difficult, especially when the crown prince and heir was traveling betwixt the Realms in search of a bride. It was with little difficulty that Tyne jumped from an overhanging branch, landed in the saddle behind Tabor, and took control of the terrified horse, which galloped madly down the road.

  Meanwhile, the true prince abruptly pulled up his mount and sadly watched his friend vanish into the distance. It was a tragic loss to the Kingdom to be sure, but there were many young lordlings but only one Crown Prince. He turned his horse and quickly headed for home. Tabor tried desperately to reach his sword or to secure the reins, but the fiend had the strength of ten men; he might as well have been wrestling a snake, for so he was save in the shape of a man. He quit his vain struggles to conserve his strength and wondered what the creature would do when it discovered he was not the true prince. His shiver brought an evil laugh from his captor and that was answer enough. He was not surprised that Gyor abandoned him to his fate, after all, it was not in his royal nature to consider anyone more important than himself.

  They finally stopped and the villain carried the young lord as if he were a sack of grain; they entered a hovel that was literally collapsing in on itself, but it perfectly suited Tyne’s mood and purpose. He threw the faux prince to the ground and snarled, “do you love your life?” Tabor stared stonily at the creature; rant, threaten, or wound as the villain would, the young lord would not betray his friends or his country. Tyne stared at the wretched creature before him, who did not love life enough to do whatever was necessary to preserve it? He smiled cruelly, “perhaps you do not possess that which mak
es life worth the living? Perhaps you want something more than life?” Again, silence reigned in the little hovel. “I can make this very painful,” snarled Tyne. Yet there came no answer. “You make this too easy,” scoffed the monster, “it could have been much to your advantage or at least a quick and painless death, but you have made it very, very hard on yourself, fool.”

  Tabor sighed deeply and prepared himself for whatever the creature intended. He was not afraid to die, long had he been at peace with the Master, no matter how much his friends mocked him for his faith, he had found no reason to doubt or weaken it. He prayed silently for some rescue, but had resigned himself to suffer what he must ere the end. Tyne continued to taunt, rant, and threaten for another half hour but still the boy would give no answer. In his wrath, he struck out violently at the fool and finally he said something, but it was only to groan in agony. Suddenly the house was filled with light and wind as a Pegassi appeared, filling the entire hovel. Kyan’s blade easily found its mark and banished Tyne from that place. The boy dismounted and the Pegassi vanished, leaving the two young men alone. Kyan quickly assessed the condition of Tyne’s prisoner and shook his head in dismay, the wound was not immediately fatal but would certainly spell his doom in a day or three.

  “The Prince!” gasped the wounded Tabor, “you must save the Prince. That thing was after the Prince, I am merely an imposter.”

  “He will return,” said Kyan almost to himself, “yet all the walls and guards in the world will not prevent whatever it is that he intends.” He turned to the dying man, “the Prince needs someone to ward him from such a fiend. Preferably someone he knows and trusts. Are you such a man?”

  Tabor gurgled a laugh, “I have been his best friend since we were barely old enough to walk. That is why I willingly die here in his stead. But I have no power over such a creature.”

  “No,” said Kyan, “but there is no reason that you cannot acquire that ability, at least if your heart is willing.”

  Tabor said weakly, “that creature offered me power and life unending, what can you give better than that? I refused him, why would I listen to you?”


  “Why indeed?” said Kyan with a smile, “I offer nothing, I am but a Messenger. It is my Master who offers true life and the skill necessary to counter such foes. You will die. Nothing I can do will stop that, but even in death, you can find life. That creature’s master offers only death, though they call it life, and his only power is that of a hopeless slave. You were wise to reject all he offered.”

  Tabor said quietly, “who is your Master?”

  Kyan said reverently, “the Master Himself.”

  Tabor’s ears suddenly perked up, “if this be the case, I wish to hear more.”

  Kyan shook his head, “I have told you all I can, unless you wish to hear what all mortals should know of the Master, but I think this you know already.”

  “Very well,” said Tabor, his excitement for a moment overriding his pain, “what must I do?”

  “Do?” said Kyan, perplexed, “we can do nothing of ourselves, it is only the Master’s power in us that can accomplish aught. But I suppose you mean what must be done? All that is needed is a willing heart and a draught of water.”

  Tabor said weakly, “then let us be about it.”

  Kyan produced a small flask from some hidden pocket and gave the boy a drink. The boy sighed in relief, the pain having suddenly vanished. He felt so good that he tried to stand, only to collapse in agony. Kyan shook his head, “you are mortally wounded, you cannot go flailing about like that lest you do yourself more harm! The water relieved some of the pain but the wounds are still there.”

  Tabor sighed from his place on the floor, “must I just lie here and die?”

  Kyan shook his head, “if there is a place you would rather go, we can bear you thence.”

  “Where can we go?” asked the intrigued Tabor.

  Kyan smiled, “anywhere you desire.”

  Tabor said thoughtfully, “I cannot go home, no one should know of my curious fate. There is no sense completing my journey, as no one knows me there and they should not know of this either. Do you have any ideas?”

  Kyan shrugged, “where would you spend your final hours, had you a choice?”

  Tabor laughed, “I have always wished to see the Lands Beyond the Morning.”

  Kyan shook his head, “no mortal man is allowed beyond the rim of the world.”

  Tabor sighed, “I suppose the Underworld might be interesting.”

  Kyan shivered, “I cannot think of a more dismal place in the mortal world.”

  Tabor smiled, “I did not say beautiful or pleasant, only interesting. Can a dying man not see one of the world’s curiosities before he succumbs to his fate?”

  Kyan laughed, “I will bear you thence if that is your wish, but do not say you have not been warned. It is dark, dreary, and full of loathsome things, perhaps your attacker is even now lurking about in that dreadful place.”

  Tabor tried to reach for his sword, but his arm would not respond as it should, he sighed and said, “there is little more he can do to me, save perhaps to hurry along the inevitable.”

  “So be it,” said Kyan grimly as he called back Erian and lifted the injured man into the saddle. Erian turned his head and looked at Kyan in astonishment when he heard their destination, but faithfully bore the pair to their insane destination. “What do you think?” asked Kyan of Tabor upon their arrival.

  “It is everything you said and worse,” laughed he, “to think anyone would desire to see such a place, though it is one of those places of legend and mystery, but I doubt one can get much of a tourist trade going down here.”

  “I suppose we had best be going?” said Kyan hopefully.

  Tabor could barely see in the dim light that penetrated into the dismal place when the sun was in the right position, but he thought he could see something moving off to one side and he clearly heard something splashing in the puddles and the squelching of the mud wherever a foot stepped. “There is something down here!” said he.

  “Whatever it is,” said Kyan, “it cannot be good. Nothing good is found in this place.”

  Erian snorted, “we are here at this moment and it was not that long ago that we met in this dismal spot.”

  Kyan shook his head, “I meant almost never, now let us be going…” He never finished his sentence, for something struck him and he vanished, followed soon after by Erian, who had also been attacked by something in the dark. Tabor suddenly found himself on the ground, or rather half submerged in a murky pool and terribly alone, except for whatever had attacked the others.

  A man-sized creature of serpentine feature drew the fallen boy out of the muck and hissed into his face, “you?! Here!” Tyne threw the stricken lad back into the muck and laughed scornfully, “because of you I was banished here permanently, or at least until my masters can find some lowly task for which I might be suited, else I shall rot here until the stars fall! And now it seems you are stuck here as well. But why?” He drew the boy out of the slime once more and studied him, his strange eyes catching every detail, even in the perpetual twilight. He felt a weak pulse, took in the boy’s various wounds, and knew the creature had not long to live, but at least death was an escape from this place. Then he saw the winged horse graven on Tabor’s palm and hissed sharply, so the creature thought he could become a Messenger? He would see about that.

  Tyne dropped the boy again and stood lost in thought for some minutes, little noticing the strange snuffling and mewling noises that grew louder as another creature approached. Tabor’s cry of pain finally drew Tyne from his musings to see some man shaped creature with a feline aura about it attacking the stricken youth. Tyne immediately snatched the creature from its prey and snapped its neck, dropping it into the mire in surprise when he saw its face and knew that once it had been his vile servant and henchman. The ser
vant’s tattered clothes gave Tyne an idea. He again drew Tabor out of the sludge and immediately began stripping off his once royal garments and put them on the dead servant. As a final touch, he used his vicious claws to disfigure the servant’s face to such a point that not even his own mother would be able to recognize him; he shredded the man‘s palm as well to erase anything that might be used to identify the body.

  Once he had finished dressing the servant in the filthy but fine robes, he took the stricken young lord and cast him into the deepest part of the mire, wherein lurked a nasty collection of aquatic beasts that were always hungry for fresh meat. The denizens of the slough made short work of Tabor and fought violently over what little remained. Tyne withdrew, leaving the dead servant to be found by whomever would come seeking Tabor. He had not long to wait, for in a flutter of wings and blinding light, a Pegassi appeared, someone quickly dismounted, gathered up the carcass, and just as hastily vanished. Of course the trick would not fool them for long, but it would give Tyne some much needed amusement and perhaps even prevent the upstart fool from joining ranks with his enemies.

  Kyan and Erian landed on the little strip of grass surrounding the strange pool on the floating isle Beyond the Morning. Kyan dismounted, deposited his grim burden, and was swiftly aback Erian who went immediately aloft. Instead of the water rising up to cover the slain figure, the water shrank back and actually appeared to dry up, as if in the midst of a sudden drought. “This is strange,” said the Elder as he paced along the edge of the pool and stared down at the ruined figure on the sward, “the pool behaves as if this poor creature is not who you were sent to find.”

  Kyan frowned as he dismounted from Erian, who had landed again when the water had receded. Said he, “I do not know who else it could be. It is not as if…”

  The boy shivered, “what happens if the water is used on the wrong individual?”

  The Elder said thoughtfully, “the creature will live forever in whatever state it is in, that is why the world was broken and man was driven away from these waters, else he might live forever in his ruined state rather than having a chance to find redemption and live forever as a renewed creature. But the water knows and will not touch an unrepentant creature. This must be the wrong creature.”

  Kyan shivered, “we were in the Underworld and something attacked us and sent us back here. I returned to find the boy dead as you see him.”

  The Elder stared at the boy in astonishment, but his face warmed with an amused smile, “sightseeing?”

  Kyan shrugged, “I did not think it dangerous, the boy was already dying.”

  “These clothes look quite fine though they have seen some rough wear of late,” said the Elder thoughtfully, “are they the clothes of your lad?”

  Kyan nodded, “his were the clothes of a Prince.”

  Queried the Elder, “could he have recanted at the last moment?”

  Kyan shook his head and frowned, “no, rather some mischief is at work here. Someone marred his face and palm, no doubt the same something that attacked us. But who was this poor man?”

  The Elder stared down at the corpse and remarked, “he is rather furry is he not?”

  Kyan shivered, “some poor captive of that dreadful place no doubt. I will return him and see if I can find Tabor.” He took up the dead servant and was soon gone, in search of the real corpse. Kyan laid the wretched man where he had found him and sloshed about in the muck, feeling his quarry must be close by but not able to find it.

  “Looking for something?” came Tyne’s scoffing remark.

  Kyan looked up in surprise and demanded, “where is he Tyne?” Tyne took up the dead servant and cast him into the same pool into which Tabor had vanished. Kyan watched in horror as the aquatic denizens made short work of this second meal of the day.

  “Even the bones are consumed!” triumphed Tyne, “they have left nothing. Too bad that, you need all the help you can get.” His scornful laughter vanished into the distance, leaving Kyan alone in the dark, fetid mire. He plunged into the depths, but soon discovered that Tyne was correct, nothing remained of either corpse. He surfaced, found Erian, and they returned to the Elder with their grim news.

  “Nothing at all?” came the Elder’s surprised remark when Kyan told him of his fruitless search. The Elder laughed, “if that is all, you need not look so grim lad. Go fetch a handful of earth from the place where the boy died, that will suffice.”

  Kyan gave him an uncertain look but returned to the Underworld and did as he was bidden. The Elder told him to cast the dirt into the pool. He obeyed and the water started to fret and swirl until violent waves broke its once mirror like surface. One wave crashed against the greensward and washed up a very surprised Tabor. A moment later, a Pegassi landed beside him and greeted him enthusiastically. Kyan smiled at the Elder and vanished. Tabor saluted the elder and likewise vanished aback his Pegassi. The Elder smiled at the incongruities of the mortal world and left the now calm pool to itself once more.

  Bayard and Ithril were riding slowly along a stretch of road unknown to them, but knew it to be somewhere near the famous capital city, though few of their former acquaintance had ever ventured so far from home. In their exuberant, youthful enthusiasm they had always talked hopefully of one day making such a journey, but their current mission was as close as they had ever (and might ever) come. A sudden blinding light and flutter of wings announced the appearance of a Pegassi on the road before them. Bayard’s mount reprimanded the newly arrived Pegassi, “you must learn to arrive with less ado! Had we been anything but what we are, such an appearance would certainly not have been to your advantage. It would terrify mortal men and warn your enemies!”

  The newcomer snorted his amusement but made no reply, knowing full well who his audience would be upon their arrival. Tabor exchanged greetings with his new comrades as he fell in beside them. “I have no idea what I am doing,” said he with a smile.

  Ithril laughed, “that makes three of us.”

  Bayard shook his head in amusement, “I believe he knows what our mission is but is rather referring to the fact that he has not been long a Messenger.”

  “Precisely,” said Tabor, “as to our mission, that is simple. We are to ward the Prince Gyor against any more attempts to harm his person or foment war between his father’s Kingdom and that of his affianced lady.”

  Ithril nodded eagerly, “as you have apprised us of our mission, so too will we be happy to answer any questions you have regarding your new occupation.”

  Tabor laughed in delight, “I am much obliged, but come, we must hasten to the Prince’s rescue. Those fiends that seek his life will not tarry long, neither must we!”

  Bayard shook his head, “we cannot all travel at the speed usual for a Pegassi, as one member of our party is currently in a mortal state.”

  Tabor said in surprise to Ithril’s mount, “I am sorry my dear creature, I was unaware of your predicament. Of course we must set our pace to yours.”

  The Pegassi blew out his nostrils and said in mild frustration, “I wish I were not such a nuisance!”

  Ithril patted his friend’s shoulder and said warmly, “nay dear friend, you are never a nuisance. Rather, there is likely some reason for your current state that we cannot yet see, and we must adjust our plans accordingly. Besides, the mortal world is a wide and wonderful place, too easily missed if we flit about madly from one point to another. It will be a delightful change of pace to travel in a more leisurely style.”

  The Pegassi shook his head and laughed, “I suppose there is nothing I can do to change my current circumstances and as they will undoubtedly be reversed soon enough, I had best appreciate them while they last? Trite, but still good advice that I had best take to heart.” They trotted along in a lighter mood, chatting about where they had come from and what they were going to do. Tabor found their previous adventures fascinating and they were intrigu
ed by his descriptions of the capital and its royal inhabitants, most especially the young Prince.

  Night was falling and the mortal member of their party was showing signs of weariness. Tabor was about to remark that they had best find an inn, but suddenly remembered that five sixths of the party had no need for such an establishment and the remaining individual might be more comfortable outdoors on such a night. Ithril broached the subject and his Pegassi replied with a yawn, “of course I would prefer a night under the stars when the weather is as pleasant as this. I have had my fill of cramped, dusty stalls and moldy hay!”

  The three Messengers exchanged an amused smile, but still felt an urge to find the local haven for travelers and gossipmongers, but for reasons other than rest and refreshment. They rounded a bend in the road, which happily revealed their anticipated destination. The riders dismounted, bid goodnight to their mounts, and went into the inn. The Pegassi vanished into the shadowy woods on the other side of the road, one to rest and graze while the others warded the night. The Messengers had hardly entered the inn when a shout of surprise and ill-contained joy met their ears, “Tabor!”

  The young prince had ridden as far as he dared before turning into this very establishment to seek solace from his grief, terror, and rigorous travel. His heartache turned to sheer joy upon sighting his sundered friend. Seeing that his exuberance was drawing undo attention, Gyor wisely grew silent and motioned for the newcomers to join him. They nodded and made their way to the anxious Prince, who was desperate to know of his friend’s adventures and what had come of the fiend who had attacked him.

  Once everyone was seated and the barmaid had seen to their comfort, they talked quietly of the weather and the likely travel conditions upon the morrow until all and sundry had forgotten the outburst and returned to their own drinks and companions. Once all seemed oblivious to their conversation, Gyor said eagerly to Tabor, “come man! Tell me what has befallen you this day! And who are your friends?” He eyed the strange pair as one might study a horse he had a mind to buy.

  Tabor said quietly, “it has been a strange day for both of us no doubt, and it seems you have suffered greatly in your own right.”

  The Prince nodded glumly, “aye, I never thought myself such a selfish coward until I saw you taken and rode as fast as I could in the opposite direction. I am heartily ashamed of myself! But it heartens me to see you alive and well, if only you could find the heart to forgive me!”

  Tabor smiled warmly, “I forgave you ere that fiend bore me away and will be truly grateful if you are a better man for it.”

  The Prince nodded thoughtfully, “today has opened my eyes to many parts of my character that are less than useful to any man, especially to one in my position. Perhaps one day I shall be a better King for it. Now come, what of your adventures?”

  Tabor smiled at his friend’s ravenous curiosity and said, “the fiend was after you. I said nothing, no matter how he threatened or what he promised. Finally he grew tired of my obstinacy and things might have grown grave indeed had rescue unlooked for not found me. A fell warrior came upon us, defeated the fiend, and thus was I free to return to your aid.”

  “And who are your friends?” asked the Prince eagerly, hoping that one might be this storied hero.

  Tabor replied, “a couple fellows I met upon the way, eager to aid us however they can. We must complete our errand Highness and you must arrive as yourself, not I in your guise.”

  Gyor put his head in his hands and groaned, “I know, I know, but it is not something to which I look forward, but it is a duty I now know I must accomplish for the good of all in both Kingdoms.”

  Tabor smiled slightly, “Highness, are you learning responsibility?”

  The Prince looked up with an equally slight smile, “I suppose I am, what a frightening thought!” He sobered and faced Tabor’s companions, “what madness has seized you lads that you would risk life and limb on such a venture? How is it we know we can trust you?”

  Bayard smiled, “Sire, for the good of two Kingdoms, the risks are rather insignificant by comparison. As for trust, you will have to decide upon that matter yourself, but we are at your service nonetheless.”

  The Prince sighed in resignation, “if Tabor can trust you then I must as well; at least I owe him that much. Welcome to the adventure gentleman, I hope you find greater pleasure in it than I will.”

  Tabor said quietly, “it is not for us to ever be seeking pleasure but rather doing that which is right and good and our appointed duty.”

  The Prince smiled, “at least your adventure has not dented your sense of moral superiority.”

  Tabor returned the smile, “nay Highness, if anything it has sharpened it.” The Prince groaned in feigned horror but then actually began to listen to what his friend had to say upon such matters, he felt that he owed Tabor at least this much as well for his failures of the morning. Thus did he listen attentively, when in times past he had been all too prone to mock and jeer; Tabor was quite gladdened by this seeming change of heart and hoped it would last.

  The Prince yawned and said, “well, this has been an educational evening at least, but I need some sleep. All this moral enlightenment is quite exhausting.” The others agreed and bade him goodnight, Tabor accompanied him to his sleeping chamber and saw that he was properly tucked in before taking a chair and silently watching the night. The Prince yawned, “are you not going to sleep?”

  Tabor shook his head, “I am not tired and one of us should keep watch, as I doubt that fiend acts alone.”

  Gyor said sleepily, “quite right, quite right…” He drifted to sleep and never finished his thought. Tabor kept watch in the Prince’s room while his two companions skulked about the inn and its surroundings with nothing of interest to report; we shall move on to the following day, but the reader may feel free to fill in the most minute of details of the previous night if thought necessary.

  After breakfast and a good night’s rest, the Prince was very nearly ready to face his doom or marriage, whichever might befall him in the near future; unsure which would be the most unpleasant, but at least eager to see what the future might hold for him. Our intrepid adventurers set out and covered the ground the Prince and Tabor had already traversed the previous day, ever watchful lest another misadventure befall them and delay them further. But nothing of import happened for three full days and the next day would bring them into the capital city of Alaria where Gyor’s doom awaited, whatever it might be.

  Their final evening at an inn was again unremarkable and Gyor was glad to retire early, for he had something he wished to discuss with Tabor. Said he once they were alone, “your companions seem to be quite dependable and cheerful fellows, but though they are from rather prosperous families they cannot be considered worthy companions for such as we when we return to civilization, not being of noble birth or title.”

  Tabor eyed his friend curiously, “and what has that to do with anything? I thought a person’s worth had nothing to do with birth and everything to do with heart.”

  Gyor sighed, “there you go being ethical again! How is civilization to survive if you debunk the well established fact that those of noble birth are far above the peasantry in manners, strength, wit, value, and sense?”

  “We are all human,” said Tabor calmly, “our social status does little to imbue us with either virtue or vice, though perhaps how we are raised predisposes us to one or the other, but families of any social strata can err in that matter. A Lord can be as much a tyrant as the meanest peasant, so too can the poorest wretch be a great saint.”

  Gyor shook his head, “why do you have to make sense? Life is much easier simply accepting our traditional social misconceptions instead of swimming against the current of societal norms and seeking true justice! I suppose your friends can come with us, I just thought it looked rather scandalous to be accompanied by such common men on so important a royal errand.�
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  Tabor smiled, thinking that he and his companions were actually a rather uncommon sort of man, but Gyor did not know that. He said, “I think it best if they remain with us, for we are at far more risk amongst so many strangers than we are upon the open road.”

  “Very well,” said Gyor with a resigned smiled, “your friends may accompany us to whatever end.”

  Tabor smiled, well pleased with the changes wrought in his friend’s character by the emotional shock he so recently suffered; the potential was there for the man to make an acceptable King after all. He was finally beginning to see others as thinking, feeling individuals too, rather than just assuming all men were there to be used in whatever capacity he deemed appropriate and that they should be content therewith. Suddenly Tabor was on the alert, something felt terribly wrong, said he to the Prince, “Sire, there is something amiss. Perhaps you should conceal yourself behind the door and thus be out of sight when it opens; I shall assume your place upon the bed.”

  Gyor frowned at his companion but was too flummoxed to argue and quickly obeyed the strange precautions. No sooner had the pair assumed their positions than the doorknob turned slowly and the door opened a crack. The intruder paused for a moment, but hearing nothing and seeing no light, he proceeded to slowly open the door. The Prince barely breathed as the door opened fully, concealing him from casual sight. The darkly clad intruder ghosted into the room and thrust a dagger into the unmoving form on the bed. Tabor groaned and the villain fled, triumphant in his task, only to meet Bayard and Ithril in the hall. They made short work of the undead minion and rushed into the Prince’s chamber to ascertain what had come of their companions.

  Gyor emerged from behind the door and pounced upon Bayard as he entered the room, driving him to the ground. The Prince heaved a sigh of relief to discover who these new intruders were. He stuttered an explanation as he got to his feet and offered the prone Messenger a hand. Ithril lit a candle so that they might all see what mischief the foul minion had wrought. Tabor lay unmoving in the bed, cold to the touch but perspiration beaded on his forehead; his breathing was fast and shallow. There was a gash in his thigh that was bleeding profusely. Ithril tore a strip of cloth from the sheet and used it to tourniquet the injured leg and exchanged a puzzled look with Bayard, for the Messengers neither bled, breathed, nor perspired, at least not in their usual state. He was mortal! “Will he live?” came the Prince’s worried query.

  Bayard said ironically, “he lives indeed.” Finally the boy’s eyes fluttered open and he stared at his friends in amazement, but there was no puzzlement in his eyes. In fact, he seemed to know exactly what had happened though he could not discuss it in front of the Prince. “Can you ride?” asked Bayard of the patient, “I think it best if we are not found here in the morning. I do not think our enemies will be long in discovering they have failed again.”

  Tabor nodded, “perhaps it would be best if Ithril and I swapped horses for a time, but yes, I think we had best be gone from here as soon as may be.”

  Ithril smiled slightly, “I think it can be arranged.”

  Gyor groused impatiently in his relief and dread, “what matters the beast you ride? Let us be gone from this place!” Seeing no reason for further delay, the four immediately made for the stables.

  The matter was quickly discussed amongst the Pegassi while Gyor was busy saddling his horse and the creatures agreed that it was a quite unheard of but not unworkable idea. “At last,” said the mortal Pegassi, “a rider who understands the constraints of mortality.”

  Tabor grinned, “but you forget that I actually weigh something whereas your former rider was no burden at all.”

  The Pegassi feigned a shudder, “alas, poor slave that I am, I will endure what I must. Come lad, the day wastes.” They glanced out the open door but only the first grey hints of dawn had begun to creep back into the world. They shared a smile at wasting a day hardly begun, but the Prince was already in his saddle and the others quickly followed suit and rode out into the misty and silent world of predawn.

  They pressed harder than might have been advised at the end of such a journey with an injured man in the party, but all were eager to be again among the bustling throng of civilization, though more vigilance would be required on their part, even so there was a strange sort of comfort to be again among their own kind. Tabor fell back to speak privately with his comrades once they were well on their way; the Prince seemed lost in his own thoughts.

  Said he with a rueful smile to his curious friends, “it seems I cannot even complete my first mission as a Messenger without again wearing mortal flesh, but at least I was struck rather than our dear Prince. It was some strange weapon of the Enemy, meant to send any mortal even nicked with the blade immediately into Eternity, apparently it has the opposite effect upon one beyond Time. But perhaps it is best if I am truly mortal again if I am to be ever at the Prince’s side, I think he begins to grow suspicious of you and even of me in our more peculiar habits. He has noticed that I can go indefinitely without sleep and is aware that neither of you have taken a room at any of the inns the last three nights. There are enough dangers to him at the moment, it is not wise to cultivate distrust of those sent to protect him.” The others nodded their understanding as Gyor turned back to see what the curious trio was up to, wondering if Tabor might truly be plotting against him, perhaps in repayment for his own disloyalty. As if summoned by the wondering look in Gyor’s eyes, Tabor immediately left his companions and rejoined the Prince.

  Said Gyor with some heat in his voice, “have you found better and truer friends than I then?”

  Tabor smiled broadly, “nay Sire, we were simply discussing what precautions might be necessary as we return to civilized lands. You have always been my oldest and dearest friend and nothing will change that.” There was such sincerity in the man’s voice the Gyor almost believed him, but there was a small nagging doubt that would not leave the Prince’s uneasy mind in peace, much like the mosquito that will not let the weary traveler sleep. Tabor could tell his friend was still of a disquiet mind, but further prying or attempts at calming his fears would only worsen his suspicions; the Prince would have to make peace with his own thoughts if the matter was ever to be resolved. The uneasy final leg of their journey was finally relieved by their sudden entrance into a large market town that had grown up around the capital city. There were enough distractions and potential threats lurking about in the thronging crowd that even Gyor’s anxious mind was temporarily diverted from its previous suspicions. They entered the gates of the city proper and approached the great castle that towered over everything.

  Tabor asked of his Prince, “have you the letter from the King and your father’s reply?” Gyor felt his pockets and smiled to feel the crinkle of the letters, for they would serve as proof that they were more than the weary travelers they seemed. They had been in Tabor’s keeping until Gyor felt they must trade places and so did they pass to Gyor with the rest of Tabor‘s paraphernalia, which as matters played out was a rather remarkable thing, for all of the Prince’s previous possessions had been lost with Tyne’s capture of Tabor. They rode up to the gates and the guards eyed them stonily, but as the captain read the proffered letters, his eyes widened and his expression softened until he looked up and bowed deeply to the common seeming man before him. A servant was immediately dispatched to apprise the King and his Steward, while the party was allowed into the courtyard that they might dismount and be allowed to rest and freshen up before their audience with the King and more importantly, the Princess.

  The King had only one child, his daughter Alana, but the laws of Alaria would not permit her to reign as sovereign but her husband could be King and then she might be Queen. The union would make Gyor the future King of both realms and thus unite the Kingdoms. Of course another heir might be found if such a match were deemed unworthy by the King, his major Lords, or even Alana herself. In which case, the
orphaned sons, twins, of the King’s late brother, would be next in line for the crown, but he hoped his daughter would make a satisfactory match and thus unite the Realms and strengthen them both thereby. He had always maintained very cordial relations with Gyor’s father and hoped the lad was half the man his father was. And very soon he would know of a certain. The King wanted to run and skip down the corridor in excitement when the servant announced the Prince’s arrival, but forced himself to a more regal pace.

  By the time the King, the Princess, the royal nephews, the Steward and various advisors, and the more important Lords had gathered in the main audience chamber, the Prince and his companions were cleaned up and ready to make their debut. The Steward had appeared almost immediately and after hearing of their harrowing adventures (and the much more disturbing loss of the royal luggage) had set every servant in the castle to work finding suitable attire for the much anticipated Prince. They had done their work well, for none could tell that the newcomers had traveled far and survived much in the previous days, rather they looked fresh from a pleasant morning’s repose in the gardens. Introductions were made all around, with Bayard and Ithril being classified as some sort of squire-like retainers and thus worthy of little further notice.

  The Lords took special notice of Tabor, at least those with daughters of marriageable age, but all and sundry seemed impressed with the young Prince, thus increasing the excitement and eagerness of all for the ensuing festivities in which they might come to make a better and more thorough judgment of the youth and his worthiness of the Alarian throne. After the requisite banalities and small talk were accomplished, the newcomers were dismissed that they might rest from their adventures and thus be ready for the evening’s fantastical feast, which might last until dawn. They promptly withdrew, eager to discuss their reception and that which was to come. Once Tabor and Gyor were alone in their chambers, the former said with a smile, “the Princess and her father certainly seem eager to make your acquaintance.”

  “She is a lovely creature,” said Gyor happily, relieved that at least his intended was a comely lady.

  “That she is,” said Tabor warmly, only too late realizing his mistake, for his friend’s eyes hardened for a moment, as if a jealous or suspicious thought had suddenly entered the Prince’s mind.

  “I think,” said the Prince harshly, “you had best leave. I wish to be alone that I might rest for the night’s festivities.”

  Tabor tried to protest, but this only increased the Prince’s ire, so he hastily bowed and left the room. He entered the chamber shared by his two comrades; they looked up in surprise to see Tabor, knowing it unwise to leave the Prince alone. Said he as he shut the door behind him, “I fear the Prince is jealous or at least suspicious of my or our intentions. He will not even tolerate me in his presence at the moment.”

  Ithril stood, “I will guard his Highness.” The boy suddenly vanished and Tabor gasped, forgetting the otherworldly abilities of his new profession. The boy was no longer visible to mortal sight and the walls did not hinder him in the least; the Prince would not even know he was there.

  Bayard smiled at his friend’s discomfiture, “I forget this is still very new to you and that you are mortal again besides.”

  Tabor sat on the bed and yawned, “speaking of which, I think I had better get some rest too, if I am to have any chance of keeping up with the rest of you.”

  The afternoon wore on, Tabor slept while the Prince brooded, thus was he little refreshed when a servant announced that it was time to prepare for the feast. Shortly after, his companions inquired whether he would be in need of their company or service. He said bluntly, “I now have little need of your companionship or your aide, now that I am back amongst my own kind. I would appreciate that you keep your distance; if I need something I will ask.” The door shut more forcefully than necessary, thus ending the conversation.

  The three Messengers exchanged a worried look and this time Bayard vanished to keep a close watch over the obstinate Prince. The others made their way to the banquet, taking seats far to the back where they might not be noticed yet close enough to be summoned if the Prince should need them. The Steward tried to thwart the young Lord Tabor in his choice of seating, but he staunchly refused to sit in a place of more honor, saying that the Prince alone was deserving of such notice and that he was merely a companion and a servant and would not serve as a distraction. The Steward sighed and moved on to attend to other pressing business, but the Princess had overheard the conversation and drew near, accompanied by two young men her own age.

  The proper courtesies were given and received on both sides and the lads were introduced as the King’s nephews. Though the boys were twin brothers, they were about as dissimilar as any two people could be. The elder, Adok by name, was a rather silent and grim seeming young man while his brother, Aril, was an outgoing and friendly fellow who immediately took a liking to Ithril and Tabor, as did their beautiful cousin. Adok sniffed in disdain and moved on to seek more important companions after only a few moments in their company. Aril shook his head, “forgive my brother, he will not deign to speak with anyone less important than himself, often including me. Neither will he look with favor on your Prince, for he considers him competition for the throne and would above all else marry my cousin but she will not have him. She would take me instead, but I will not accept her hand if it means strife in the family and the Kingdom. Thus does he wait and we watch him, hoping he does not act on his baser feelings.”

  Tabor said in surprise, “why trust veritable strangers with such important and sensitive revelations?”

  Alana said quietly, “you are the Prince’s trusted companions and perhaps very soon ours by marriage, it is best you know how things stand so you know how to proceed.”

  Tabor nodded thoughtfully, “as you have fully trusted us, so too will I now trust you. The Prince has become jealous and suspicious of us of late, and will no longer even associate with us. He has been a selfish and childish young man as long as I have known him, but has recently shown signs of wanting to change, but has suddenly become afflicted with unworthy thoughts towards his one-time friends and companions. I do not know what will come of it.”

  Alana smiled nervously, “I had hoped better of him, but at least you speak of promise. Perhaps once he is more settled here, he will again relax his guard around those dearest to him.”

  Tabor smiled at her warmly, “you have a generous heart my lady.”

  She smiled deeply at him and said in parting, “I look forward to knowing you more my Lord, but I must now find my father and betrothed Prince.”

  They bowed as she left, but Aril remained behind. They looked at him questioningly and he said, “Adok is my uncle’s favorite and no one else will be seeking my company this evening, so I might as well keep company with the rest of those in disgrace. Where is your other companion?”

  Ithril said, “your company is most welcome. The Prince does not wish our company, but we dare not leave him unattended, Bayard is discreetly keeping an eye on his Highness.”

  Tabor asked curiously, “you do not seem overly troubled by the turmoil within your family? Most men would be furious that they could not marry the woman of their choosing because their brother wanted her, especially when it also deprived him of a crown.”

  Aril shrugged nonchalantly but he could not hide an eager smile, “I have my heart set on higher things than a wife or even a crown. My brother’s avariciousness and cousin’s plight certainly concern me, but I will not be ruled by such passions as many men might.” As he spoke, he unconsciously ran his fingers over a discolored mark on his right palm that Ithril’s keen eyes knew to be the figure of a Pegassi. So the boy was an uninitiated Messenger, that explained much. A chill coursed through Ithril’s heart, then what of the grim brother?

  Said Ithril suddenly, “if you will excuse me for a moment, I must speak with our missing companion. I will re
turn shortly.” The others eyed him curiously but nodded and watched him hastily leave the room. Tabor wondered what had so unsettled his comrade but knew it could not be discussed in front of Aril so he occupied himself in conversation until Ithril returned. The boy hastened to find Bayard, vanishing from casual sight as soon as he found himself alone. Bayard was not far from the Prince and neither was Adok. Ithril shivered to have his greatest fears confirmed, the King’s favorite nephew also bore a mark upon his palm, but unlike that of his brother, this one was not a Pegassi but was some sort of snarling reptile. He was an acolyte of evil.

  Ithril quickly approached Bayard and apprised him of the situation and then returned to his former companions. Tabor eyed him curiously but said nothing that might compromise their peculiar situation. Asked Ithril of Aril, “what thinks the King of the Princess’ distaste for your brother?”

  Aril replied, “he is disappointed of course, but loves his daughter too much to see her unhappy in marriage. He hopes your Prince will be an agreeable substitute and knows Adok still has a good chance at the crown even so.”

  “What will your brother do if the Prince is a suitable candidate?” asked Tabor.

  Aril shook his head grimly, “whatever he deems necessary to procure his own ends.”

  “Can he be stopped?” asked Ithril grimly.

  Aril said in a hard voice, “I will do whatever must be done to protect the Kingdom and my cousin from his treasonous grab for power.”

  Tabor said quietly, “you would kill your own brother.”

  Aril shivered, “let us pray it not come to that. Would you aide me were it necessary?”

  Tabor exchanged a grim look with Ithril, who shook his head, “we will do everything within our power to protect your cousin, the Prince, the King, and both Realms, but you must understand that we cannot do anything to physically thwart the will of a mortal man.”

  Aril eyed him curiously, “a mortal man? What other sort of man is there?” The Messengers again exchanged a meaningful look as the boy continued, “I do not think either of you are cowards or lacking in the skill necessary to physically repel my brother, thus there must be something else that hinders your ability to aide me by such a means and as you are unwilling or unable to speak of it in my presence, I must be allowed to guess as I might.”

  Tabor smiled amusedly at the keen wit of which the boy seemed possessed. Ithril said with a slight but proud smile, “I have seen the mark on your palm and it is good to know you do not bear it in vain, but you must know your brother’s hand is also marked, but with an emblem of evil. If he discovers your own allegiance, he can gain much by your death.”

  Aril sighed deeply, “I had suspected but could not prove it. You are sure?”

  Ithril nodded, “without a doubt. Is he aware of your peculiar obligations?”

  Aril smiled grimly, “he guesses as I do, but knows nothing for certain, but I think I had best act soon, rather than wait for him to make a move from which there can be no recovery.”

  Ithril nodded but warned, “you must act, but it must be justly.”

  Aril smiled at the thought that he might actually murder his brother, said he, “I will do nothing against our Master’s laws and precepts.” Tabor shook his head in amusement, at last understanding what Ithril’s mysterious discovery had been and now listening to a discussion on the justifications for fratricide.

  Their discussion was interrupted by a servant who bowed to Tabor and said, “his Highness the Prince Gyor does hereby challenge you to a duel for the honor of the esteemed Lady Alana.” Tabor frowned at the servant in confusion, a duel with the Prince?

  Bayard hastily approached and said, “the King’s nephew has been adding fuel to the suspicious flames already burning in the Prince’s mind! He thinks you are after the Princess’ affections and the crown.”

  Tabor shook himself, hoping it was a dream but he did not wake up, he was still trapped in this unfathomable situation, but he knew what had to be done. He turned to the servant and said grimly, “tell his Highness that I accept his challenge but that there is no reason for such an action, but that his heart may finally be at ease, I will do as he wishes.”

  The servant bowed and returned to the Prince with his answer. Word quickly spread and all and sundry were quite eager to have the matter settled before dinner. It would be just the thing to commence the evening’s festivities and would allow the Prince to showcase his obviously superior martial skills. Adok hoped either to dispose of his competition or permanently separate him from his only source of aide in this foreign land and thus have an easier time in the future of disgracing or removing his chief competitor. Not to mention he loved increasing tension and chaos whenever possible, especially between once dear friends. The Prince was already suspicious of his companions and even a little jealous, making him an easy target for Adok’s fictitious suggestions regarding Tabor’s actions and thoughts towards the Princess.

  Underlying everything was the Prince’s guilt and shame from his cowardice on the morning Tabor was taken in his stead, but he justified his feelings by blaming everyone else around him and inwardly accusing them of the basest thoughts and actions, thus were they rightly deserving of his baseless scorn and suspicion. He had convinced himself (with no little help from Adok) that Tabor was trying to usurp his position and thus had a right to challenge the man to a duel, feeling somehow that in winning said challenge he would put all of his frustration and shame behind him rather than heaping more guilt upon his already miserable soul. Tabor reluctantly faced off with his aggravated friend with the entire court watching excitedly all around them; Tabor noticed the sardonic smirk on Adok’s face and knew the distracted Prince was a puppet in the vile man’s hands. The Princess was nowhere to be seen and Aril watched stonily beside Ithril, little understanding how a man he had thought to be above such petty diversions could fall so easily into them.

  Tabor knew himself to be a slightly better swordsman than the Prince, though he often held himself back whenever they sparred together, not wishing to incur the wrath of his Sovereign for winning too often, but at the moment he might as well have been fighting with a piece of straw for all the harm it would do to the Prince’s physical person, not that he wanted to hurt his one time friend any way. He contented himself with blocking Gyor’s attacks and awaiting the inevitable, which only infuriated the Prince as he thought Tabor was making sport of him, trying to further embarrass him in the eyes of all the court. Harnessing his fury, the Prince redoubled his attack and broke through Tabor’s defenses and struck true. The force of the blow drove them both to the ground with the Prince landing atop his foe. Gyor struggled to his feet, his royal robes soaked through with the blood of his friend. For a moment only did he feel triumphant before the guilt and shame crashed in upon him with redoubled fury. He would not even look upon the shattered form of his late friend or meet the eyes of any of the onlookers who were, for a moment silent in astonishment at the violence of the man’s victory, but as he gained his feet, they began to applaud and cheer for the victor.

  Only Ithril, Aril, and one of the duel’s officiates attended to the fallen man while all the rest went to congratulate the victor. The official examined the fallen Tabor and pronounced him dead, gave his two companions a mournful look, and solemnly withdrew, leaving the man’s friends to make the necessary arrangements. Adok approached as the official departed, a look of pure malice on his face, said he to his aggrieved brother, “you should really not associate with such people Aril, it will only worsen your already poor reputation.” His villainous smile deepened as his eyes fell upon the mark on his brother’s temporarily unguarded hand; a thrill coursed through his heart, at last! Long had he waited for this chance and it had come in the guise of his own despised brother too! Continued he, “I fear I have been neglecting you of late. We have not always been the best of friends but you are my brother and I owe you at least a little conside
ration. Why don’t we go hunting tomorrow, just you and I? It would do you good to get out of the castle and your time will be better spent with me than with these foreign rogues.”

  Aril did not like the eagerness that tinged his brother’s voice nor trust this novel offer of brotherly companionship, something was dreadfully amiss but he also knew he should go. He said doubtfully, “my horse threw a shoe but perhaps I could borrow one?”

  Ithril looked grimly at Tabor and said, “take his, as he will have no more use for it.”

  Adok tried to smile companionably but only managed to sneer, “very well, until tomorrow then.” He turned and stalked away.

  Ithril said to his companion, “come, we have much to discuss and had best get out of the way.”

  The servants were staring at the pair and their slain friend with rather annoyed looks on their faces, as they were trying to finish preparing for the feast and these young fools were taking up entirely too much room. The pair each took up an end of the slain man and carried him out of the room, much to the relief of everyone else, as now they were very much ready to eat and discuss the excitement of the day. Adok had returned to Gyor’s side but the Prince could not begin to relax and enjoy himself until all evidence of the duel was out of sight. Once the festivities began and the wine started to flow, he felt himself very much justified in his actions and actually began to enjoy the evening. The Princess was called back and forced herself to look and act as if nothing of remark had happened, but Adok noticed that she was far from happy and he smiled the more for it. Gyor noticed none of this and the evening only proved to deepen his attachment to the Princess, though all she really wanted to do was return to her chambers to weep and never see this cruel and callous villain again. Etiquette however, demanded the opposite and thus was she forced to endure his company and smile all evening while silently dying inside.

  They carried Tabor to a silent and forgotten room just off the kitchens and lay him gently on the floor. Aril turned to Ithril and said, “I do not understand?”

  Ithril shook his head, “it is a strange tale and one I cannot yet tell you.”

  Tabor groaned, sat up, and said, “you might as well tell him. His brother knows what he is and tomorrow will seal his fate.”

  Aril stared at Tabor with a mix of wonder and horror on his face, while the previously deceased smiled back in amusement. Ithril eyed his comrade skeptically, “are you sure?”

  Tabor stood and said, “there is no use keeping him in suspense or doubt for the next twelve hours when tomorrow will prove to be a rather trying day regardless.” He eyed the speechless Aril stonily and said, “you have sworn yourself to this service. You know what tomorrow will bring. Do you truly wish to go through with it?”

  The boy said, “I desire nothing else.” Ithril nodded and Tabor recounted their strange adventures. The boy frowned as a thought occurred to him after the tale, “why offer me the loan of his horse when you knew he was not truly as dead as he seemed, especially if the beast is of the lineage you claim?”

  Ithril smiled and informed Tabor of their conversation with Adok. He nodded and then laughed in comprehension, “the poor beast has been chaffing under his mortality, this seems a good chance to relieve him of it.”

  Aril gasped, “he is truly…!” The elder Messengers exchanged a smile, knowing how hard it must be for a young, mortal mind to wrap itself around all the revelations of the evening, even though the lad knew they spoke the truth and was himself sworn to this peculiar occupation. The boy sighed and then laughed eagerly, “I knew when my brother offered to do something with me it must be a trap. I know I ride to my death tomorrow, but greater adventures await thereafter. I even have a chance to thwart his plans once and for all.”

  Ithril cautioned, “he plans to use your blood to buy great and terrible powers from our Enemy. He is vulnerable until he completes their vile Ritual but that does not guarantee victory. The result may be that he becomes more dangerous and powerful than before. You might destroy him before he becomes what he hopes, but he may also have his way with you.”

  Aril shivered, “I had assumed victory would be on the Master’s side.”

  Tabor shook his head, “nay lad, in this twisted and fallen world, nothing is certain save our Lord’s offer of redemption. He will ultimately be victorious, but there are yet many battles to fight and our Enemy does not sleep. But we will fight nonetheless.”

  Ithril looked sadly at the boy, “are you sure you want to do this? You are only a boy and have your whole life before you.”

  It was the boy’s turn to laugh, “you cannot be that much older than I and you went through with it.”

  Ithril smiled ruefully, “true, but one forgets how young and stupid one is in their youth, especially when it was not all that long ago! I do not regret my choice and neither shall you regret yours. Forgive my over protectiveness, this must be your decision.”

  Footsteps were heard in the hall and the door started to open. The Messengers vanished, leaving Aril alone. A servant looked into the room, bowed, and said, “my Lord, you are wanted at the banquet.” Aril thanked the man and dashed off to the feast.

  “What of us?” asked Tabor as the servant left and closed the door, leaving the unseen pair alone in the room.

  Ithril shrugged, “you are obviously not expected at any of their future engagements and I doubt Bayard and I will be welcome, as we are undoubtedly even more nefarious than our late companion, so we had best flee the castle before someone decides we should meet a sudden end as well.”

  “Very good,” said Tabor with a grin, “I will watch the Prince while you and Bayard make your escape. Be careful!”

  “Certainly,” said Ithril with a laugh, “it would be a pity for our entire party to perish thus.”

  So it was that Bayard and Ithril made their escape in the middle of the night during the height of the feast, and were reported as cowards and deserters early the next morning to Gyor who thought it excellent proof of his suspicions. Adok smiled to know the man truly alone and at his mercy. The vanished pair of course only disappeared from physical view, they had their orders after all. Aril felt rather abandoned as he drug himself back to his quarters in the small hours of the morning; he could not remember a more tedious and vain evening. He shut the door behind him and lit a candle to prepare for bed, and jumped to see a rather ghastly apparition before him, but relaxed when he realized who it was and what had happened earlier in the evening. Said Aril in some surprise, “if you can vanish when you wish, can you not at least reappear in clean clothes?”

  Tabor shrugged, “a rather minor detail at the moment I think, but I shall attend to it eventually. I just wanted to let you know that you are not alone, even if you cannot see us, we are here.” The boy smiled his thanks and felt a great burden lift from his heart. He saluted and said, “until tomorrow then.”

  Tabor returned the salute and repeated, “until tomorrow.” And then he was gone. The boy shook his head, crawled beneath his blankets, and began to wonder what might happen on this doomed ride. Ithril stopped briefly in the stables to inform his Pegassi of what the morrow might hold. The creature did not at first seem pleased to be rented out like a common horse for hire, but the prospect of carrying a neophyte Messenger on his last mortal campaign struck the Pegassi as somehow poetic and he readily agreed to the arrangements, especially when there was a good chance that it would be his last mortal ride as well. No one slept much in what little remained of the night, for all had their own reasons to be eagerly awaiting the morning’s ride.

  Aril did not sleep at all and thus was ready for their excursion quite early, but as Adok was of a similar mind, he met his brother in the stables only a few minutes after he arrived. They were soon in their saddles and off ostensibly to hunt, but it was no deer that Adok intended for his prey. He had mentioned to the Prince that a certain hill had a lovely view of the Kingdom and tha
t the Princess might enjoy a ride thither later in the morning. Gyor gratefully accepted the advice and was likely to be upon that very hill just after certain pivotal events were about to take place. Adok smiled to himself, knowing the day would be full of surprises to everyone but himself. Today he would finally get what he had always wanted and perhaps even more! His thoughts returned to the present as he led the way out into the burgeoning day. Aril was silent, busy with his own thoughts, glad that it was such a beautiful morning if it were to be his last under the mortal sun. He knew his brother would try to kill him today and knew he had to try to stop him from completing this hideous Ritual, whatever it was. But how to stop what he did not even understand? Whatever his embryonic plans or lack there of, the time had come.

  The Pegassi screamed as he fell with a boar spear in his heart, flinging his rider against the great bole of an ancient oak that grew atop the hill with the fabled view of the Kingdom. The fall knocked the breath out of the boy and for a moment, stunned him. Adok dismounted in a leisurely manner and pulled forth his hunting knife. Aril lay still as his brother approached, feigning unconsciousness. As Adok knelt over the unmoving form and raised his knife, Aril leapt upon his brother and tried to gain possession of the dagger. The sudden movement startled Adok, who dropped the knife. Aril lunged for it and set himself in a defensive posture. Adok heard distant hoof beats and smiled as he lunged for his brother, this time unarmed but well skilled in hand to hand combat. Aril knew his brother to be nearly as deadly without a weapon as with one and knew he only had one choice. He raised the dagger and struck just as the King, the Princess, Prince Gyor, and any number of attendants crested the hill. Adok cried out in pain even as the guardsmen in the party jumped from their saddles to separate the struggling figures.

  The King took in the situation and demanded of Aril, “what is the meaning of this? Trying to murder your brother?”

  Adok clutched at his wounded shoulder and glared at his brother, “even so Sire! I feared that he had been spending too much time with men of questionable character so offered to go hunting with him this morning. I accidentally killed his horse when I threw my spear at a boar that had suddenly broken cover, but alas, the boy rode between my spear and my quarry. At least he was not injured but he was furious that I had killed his horse and so you found us.”

  The Princess gasped and Gyor shook his head sadly, as if he expected something of the sort all along. What could one expect from those who kept company with such rogues as Tabor and his friends? The King was quite fond of Adok and disinclined to believe Aril’s side of things even in a trifling matter, and the scene before him did nothing to testify to Aril’s innocence but rather condemned him as much as Adok’s lies. “Have you anything to say for yourself boy?” came the King’s gruff query.

  The boy sighed, knowing he would only further inflame his uncle’s ire if he tried to contradict his brother, said he, “nay Sire.”

  “A wise decision,” said the King in a grim but satisfied tone, “if you had something against your brother, the decent thing would have been to challenge him to a duel if it was cause for lethal force, but alas, you chose the coward’s way out.” Gyor flinched at the last phrase though it was not directed at him. The King turned to Adok, “you are the aggrieved party in this matter, how should it be resolved?”

  Adok shook his head in feigned grief, “were he a man of honor a duel might suffice, but he has ever proven to be a lout, vulgar and loathsome. I leave it to you Highness to decide his fate. I would simply forgive him and hope he would become a better man for it, but his pride and inflammable temper poses a risk to anyone who crosses his path, as I am today the unhappy witness.”

  “Well spoken and quite gracious considering the circumstances,” said the King, well pleased with his favorite’s dissembling, “let him suffer the usual fate of traitors, murderers, and thieves.”

  “Father, no!” gasped the horrified Princess. She looked hopefully to the Prince, “will you not speak on his behalf?”

  Gyor shook his head and said solemnly, “it is partly my fault Highness in that I brought such loathsome men with me, though little did I know their character at the time. I submit myself to your justice as well, Majesty.”

  “Nonsense,” scoffed the King, “each man must make up his own mind and act according to his own character. Aril has chosen his own fate, as have your disgraceful companions. Hang him!” This last command came with such vehemence that even Alana’s tears were dried into submission as the guardsmen hastily prepared to execute their captive.

  The great oak would serve well as a gallows and once everything was ready, Adok asked a favor of the King, who graciously allowed the injured party to slap the horse upon which the condemned sat, thus sealing his fate. Well pleased with the events of the morning, the King ordered his party to continue their ride, for it would be a pity to waste such a fine day, and so on they went, leaving the boy to hang forever as a warning to others who might think to try the same again in future. Once the others were out of sight, Tabor again became visible to mortal eye and the dead horse heaved himself to his feet. The Pegassi blew out his nostrils in disgust as Tabor cut the rope. “What a horrid way to die,” said the offended creature.

  Tabor nodded in agreement, “that is why it is a death reserved for the worst sort of criminals and an end our friend did not deserve. Come, let us restore all things as they ought to be.” He was soon aback the gory horse with his even grimmer burden.

  The Elder met the scandalous looking trio on the grassy verge of a certain floating pool and said with a smile, “it seems the three of you are in need of a bath. In with all of you!” The man and the Pegassi exchanged an amused smile and jumped right in, Tabor taking Aril with him. The three soon waded to the bank where they exchanged joyous greetings with the newcomer and then each approved the changes in each of the others’ appearance. Ithril and Tabor’s Pegassi soon joined them, as did Aril’s new companion. There were greetings all around as everyone was reunited, but they soon vanished back to Alaria, for there was still much amiss in that Kingdom.

  Bayard greeted them enthusiastically, for he was far from glad to be alone with such a creature as Adok, whatever it was he had become. The King and his companions had returned from their ride with the exultant nephew in tow, but so far no superior fiend had come in search of him to complete his transformation, but he was expected any moment. But the moments ran into hours and the hours became days and still no vile overlord appeared. Adok’s foul brooding returned with a vengeance, what had gone wrong? His instructions had been to find and kill a man who bore just such a mark. Perhaps that was the problem, he had not struck the mortal blow himself. Now what? He had waited years for his victim to appear and he had squandered it! But he could still become King. He was still very much in his uncle’s favor and the Princess daily became less and less so, for she could no longer hide her weeping at all that had happened of late nor pretend to like the man her father wanted her to marry.

  The Prince and surviving nephew daily grew closer in their confidences and soon found themselves plotting together for the crown. The Prince would marry the Princess and take her back home while Adok would ascend his uncle’s throne. They only needed to convince the King that it was a very workable solution and much would he and his Kingdom benefit thereby, or at least so they said.

  Garren and his Pegassi suddenly appeared on one of the tiny islands of rock that floated like stepping stones so close to the rim of the world that one could very nearly reach out and touch it. It was a strange place to have any business whatsoever, for the islands were merely floating boulders and the rim of the world was a sheer rocky wall that mounted ever upwards into snow-capped peaks. The distant thunder of the cascade filled the place with never ceasing echoes so one could not even sit and meditate quietly in this forgotten spot. His Pegassi turned his head to stare at him in perplexity with one great eye while Garren cont
inued to scan the area for some idea as to why they had appeared in this particular spot and what they were to accomplish here.

  Finally he found the reason for their coming but it felt as if a cold hand clenched his heart. He leapt from his saddle and raced to where the Elder was struggling with some unnamed fiend that had apparently crept up from the Underworld, but there was nothing he could do. The Elder managed to free himself from the creature’s snaky clutches and fling his attacker into the bottomless Abyss below, but the damage had already been done. The Elder bore a vicious bite on his neck, had gone to his knees in shock, and his complexion had paled to a hideous pasty color.

  Garren knelt beside his old friend, placing an arm on his back to help steady the shaky Elder, who smiled ruefully at his companion, “I have never seen one of the Messengers so shaken my friend.”

  Garren said in surprise, “you look terrible! I did not think it possible.”

  “It is improbable but not impossible,” said he with a weak grin, “my people are immortal in that we do not physically succumb to age and illness, but we are not immune to violence or accident though seldom are we faced with such possibilities.”

  “The pool?” asked Garren hopefully.

  The Elder shook his head and laughed weakly, “nay lad, I am no Messenger, rather I will enter Eternity a tad earlier than I had intended.”

  Garren frowned, “then who will superintend the Messengers?”

  The fading Elder’s smile deepened, “that is why you are here.”

  Garren’s jaw dropped, “me?”

  The Elder coughed a laugh, “you were the first and now will be the foremost.”

  Garren said sadly, “there is nothing to be done?”

  The little old man shook his head but smiled eagerly, “do not weep for me lad, you are the one who now has his hands full. I am looking forward to my next assignment, now you had best get me to the pool.”

  Garren gave him a surprised look and the Elder gasped, “it will not be for healing.”

  Garren nodded solemnly and helped the fading man aback the waiting Pegassi, asking as they mounted, “what was that thing and what were you doing here in the first place?”

  The Elder shrugged, “some washed up failure of a minion of the Enemy, resigned indefinitely to the Underworld, that decided to escape his prison.” He looked grimly over the edge, “and now he will fall forever into the cold, dark of the Abyss, the eventual fate of all such rebels. As to why I was here, even I do not know the answer to that. Onward lad.” In a blink, the Pegassi appeared on the grassy verge of the pond even as the Elder was breathing his last, “we will go in together lad and you will come out alone, Captain of the Messengers.”

  Garren sadly dismounted and bore the now unmoving Elder into the depths of the pool. For a moment there was a burst of bright light and the entire pool turned silver before fading to its usual crystal blue. Garren waded out of the strange water and climbed aback the Pegassi, who said jovially, “does this make me Lord of the Pegassi?”

  Garren finally smiled, “I doubt it, but how does it feel to bear the Captain of the Messengers, whatever that means?”

  The Pegassi snorted, “exactly the same, my esteemed Captain. Now what are the first of your sagacious orders?”

  Garren laughed, “as usual my friend, you know far more than I so you had best lead the way.”

  “Wisely put,” said the Pegassi, “at this rate you will make a fine Captain.”

  They vanished and reappeared on a grassy knoll overlooking a very pretty pastoral scene, as nice as any one might imagine in such a story. A few miles down the road they came to a rundown inn that looked quite out of place amidst so much bucolic splendor, but a lad came dashing out of the stables immediately to see to the needs of the obviously weary horse. “Well met lad,” said Garren, to the rather surprised young man who was seldom spoken to in so civil a manner, if at all, save perhaps to have instructions or curses yelled in his general direction. “What can you tell me about this place and yourself?” continued Garren with true cordiality.

  The boy stared at him agape for a few moments before finally realizing the gentleman before him was actually treating him like a fellow human being. Said he with a rasping voice that had had little exercise of late, “why would you care to know aught of me sir?”

  Garren smiled, “I find the most interesting people in the world are those quite overlooked by society in general, and who knows more about the local inn than the grooms and servants about the place?”

  “Well put sir,” said the lad with a gracious smile, “I will do my best to explain, what exactly would you like to know?”

  Said Garren companionably, “tell me about your upbringing, your current circumstances, your view of life, and plans for the future; if you have time and energy thereafter, tell me a bit about the proprietor and your life here.”

  The boy smiled from his heart, for since his father’s death no one had ever seemed to care the least about him until this very moment, said he, “I was once of a prosperous family sir, not of noble blood but of an ancient lineage of great Knights. My mother died of the fever when I was quite small and my father never remarried, thus am I his only child. He was killed a few years ago, leaving me and all his fortune to my mother’s brother, my only surviving kin. What came of the fortune I know not, but my uncle thought it only proper that I work in the stables to earn my keep while also sleeping in the loft that I might attend to the needs of his patrons at any hour of the day.”

  Continued he, “as to the future, I would love to become a Knight and ride forth on some heroic quest, but alas though I have my father’s sword and armor, I do not have a charger nor is anyone like to hire an untested and unknown sword. I had to sell my father’s horse for a pittance, for my uncle would not hear of keeping him. I still have the money but it would not buy an old plow horse let alone a decent mount for a Knight, thus I am likely doomed to spend the rest of my days tending horses at this ramshackle inn. My view of life you ask, what is it you mean by that?”

  Garren shrugged, “every man has a way of looking at the world, judging what is right and wrong, a code that governs his behavior, even if he knows it not.”

  The boy smiled, “you will probably laugh or call my view quaint or foolish, my uncle does, but my father taught me of the Master and His ways and still through everything do I cling to and trust in them.”

  Garren eyed the boy sternly, “and what is foolish or quaint in that lad? It takes a staunch and courageous heart to cling to such faith in a day when most men laugh at it. How would you like to get out of here? I shall have a word with your uncle on the matter and perhaps we can find you a suitable mount, and I just may have an idea of where you can put your skills to good use.”

  The boy cautioned, “do not seem too eager or my uncle will refuse to let me go.”

  “I will heed your warning,” said Garren, “but as you are of age, I think you should be free to go whenever you wish it.”

  The boy smiled grimly, “you do not know my uncle sir.”

  “We shall see,” said Garren with a smile.

  He walked into the inn and took a seat in the empty common room at one of the dusty tables. After an interminable wait, a tall, thin, and grubby man stalked towards his only guest and demanded, “what do you want?”

  “Whatever you have will be fine sir,” said Garren indifferently.

  The innkeeper sniffed and stalked back to find something to serve the man, happy to have a chance to dispose of the dregs and drippings of some of his worst brews. He came back with Something in a cup, Garren was glad he was beyond death or whatever was in that mug might have killed him. The innkeeper watched in astonishment as the man sipped at and actually swallowed some of the nasty concoction, and after making an anguished face said, “well I did say anything would be fine didn’t I, the more fool me. Now, sir, as you are the local innkeeper and no doubt
wise in many things, I must ask a boon of you.” The man’s eyes sparkled in avarice as Garren spoke, he continued, “I need to hire a lad to run errands for me, tend to my horse, and that sort of thing. I travel a great deal and the pay will be trifling, but I am not a stern master and he could see the world. Do you know a local lad who might be willing to accompany me? I will make it worth your while.”

  The man looked quite eager for his while to be worth something and thought quickly of which local lad he would most like to be rid of. Then he smiled, but of course! His worthless nephew was the perfect choice. He said in feigned regret, “I suppose my nephew, the lad who saw to your horse, would be a suitable candidate. Of course he owes me much for room and board and I cannot just let him go for nothing.”

  “Hmmm,” said Garren, “I am not sure. Is there anyone else? Why the lad is gigantic, he must cost a fortune to feed and clothe, no wonder he owes you much.” The innkeeper quite agreed and was gratified to find one so sympathetic to his situation though in truth the lad lived on scraps, had never had even a new pair of socks from his uncle, and the man had squandered all his inheritance within the first month of his arrival at the inn.

  “I suppose,” said the man, now acutely aware of the expense the lad posed to him, “I suppose, that it will be boon enough to me to have him no longer dependent on me for room and board. Of course I would appreciate anything you could do to ameliorate what he has cost me these last few years.”

  “Of course,” said Garren, “I hope this helps somewhat in your plight.”

  The man eagerly took the proffered coins and quickly dashed off ere the man changed his mind, saying over his shoulder, “the lad’s in the stable, take him when you go.” Garren shook his head, grimaced as he glanced at the vitriolic brew, and headed back to the stables where he met the eager boy.

  “It seems you are coming with me,” said the man, “that is if you are willing?”

  “Good,” said the lad, Kipril by name, “I am already packed, but I will need some sort of pack animal or wagon to carry my father’s gear.”

  Garren smiled, “perhaps my horse would oblige us?”

  Kipril shook his head, “I could not ask you to walk sir nor is your weary animal up for such a burden so late in the day.”

  Garren nodded, “we will not go far so I think he might oblige us.” He arched an eyebrow at the Pegassi, who shook his head in amazement that he would be acting as a pack animal and then sighed in resignation. It seemed that his rider was promoted and yet he had been demoted, but he would do whatever he must in his Master’s service. They loaded up the poor beast and began their journey afoot.

  Asked the boy once the inn had vanished behind them, “how can I ever repay you sir and where do you intend for me to put my skills to use?”

  Garren said warmly as they walked along, “you owe me nothing lad but I would that you served the Master with all your heart and soul and being, nothing will give me or Him greater pleasure and that is all the recompense I could wish for. As to what the future holds, I intend for you to free a country from the grip of evil, to defeat a dastardly villain, marry a princess, and perhaps even become King.”

  The boy gaped, “sir you jest!”

  Garren smiled, “nay lad, that I do not. I need a man with your skills but above all faithful to the Master. Are you willing to try? It will be dangerous though.”

  The boy nearly burst with excitement, “why sir! It is just like the stories. Of course I will do it. But who would make a stable boy King?”

  Garren’s smile deepened, “only the Master would do such a thing and we can do naught but his will.”

  Evening found them on a lonely stretch of road and the boy in need of rest. Garren ordered him to bed and said he had a few errands to be about. The boy wanted to protest, yearning for more adventure on this already eventful day but he dared not gainsay his benefactor, so after eating something out of Garren’s saddlebags he lay down and tried to sleep. Kyan and Griffin suddenly appeared upon the road and saluted their new captain smartly; Garren could only shake his head and smile ruefully, saying, “watch the lad while I attend to a few errands, the fate of a nation depends upon him.” Garren climbed aback his Pegassi and vanished, reappearing in the sizable market town they would reach the following evening if they continued at their current pace. Though it was getting late, Garren found a horse dealer more than willing to make him an offer. He found an aging but sound horse that once might have borne a Knight upon many a campaign and another beast that would make a suitable pack animal. He paid the man well and gave him a little extra that he might pick them up the following evening. The man thanked him profusely and assured him the beasts would be ready at the appointed time.

  He returned to camp and apprised the two junior Messengers of his arrangements and what must take place in the days to come. Kyan smiled as Garren prepared to leave, “will it not seem a little odd that you vanished in the night only to be replaced by two strange lads?”

  Garren smiled, “just tell him I rode ahead to prepare everything for his coming.”

  Griffin shook his head, “as you say, Sir.”

  Garren eyed him sternly, but a slight smile ruined the effect, “farewell and guard him well!” And then he was gone.

  Kyan was correct, Kipril was quite astonished to find his benefactor gone and two young strangers in his stead. They explained as best they could, but the boy was far from convinced but as he had little choice save to go on as before, they broke camp and began their journey anew. The Pegassi were reluctant to walk and have their masters do likewise but even more aghast to discover that they were expected to carry a burden as well, but they resigned themselves to their fate, which as they discovered was not actually worse than death. The young Messengers were surprised to discover Garren’s strange promotion but instinctively knew his new role, and it seemed even he was not yet quite sure what to make of it, but all were eager to see what it would mean for the Messenger Corps. Kipril was at first silent, wondering about all that had happened to him in the last day but finally he could keep silent no longer, said he, “this whole adventure seems rather strange to me. What kind of decent fellows show up in the middle of the night to travel with a complete stranger?”

  Kyan shrugged, “I know it seems strange, but things will only get stranger as the days wear on. Are you truly ready for this?”

  Kipril sighed, “I hardly know but I will do my best. Was Garren serious about what he said?”

  Griffin nodded, “if he said it, it must be true.”

  Kipril queried, “where are we going?”

  Kyan replied, “Alaria is in dire distress and much has gone amiss there of late.”

  They traveled on all day, stopping only when Kipril seemed in need of rest or refreshment. As the day wore on, he began to feel more at ease with his companions and eagerly began to look forward to what was to come. He was completely taken aback when they entered the market town that evening and the horse merchant presented him with the charger and the pack animal; prepare the way indeed! They saw the boy tucked in at one of the better inns in town and then Griffin kept watch while Kyan vanished. He reappeared in Alaria, seeking out his comrades who were still watching and waiting to see what Adok and the Prince would do. Bayard met him eagerly and told him of all that had come to pass of late. The four Messengers assigned to the Kingdom were watching Adok, the Prince, and the Princess though they could do little but watch and keep the evil minions of the Enemy from interfering. As mortals, they must be allowed to think and act as they chose, but daily the King’s will was gradually giving way to the thinking of his nephew and the young Prince. The Princess was very nearly in despair at the state of things in her family and in the Kingdom.

  Bayard was quite excited when Kyan announced the imminent arrival of a young Knight who might set everything aright, and then Kyan asked after the Captain.

  Bayard frowned
, “who?”

  Kyan said in surprise, “Garren, he said he would be here getting everything ready.”

  Bayard shook his head, “I have not seen him. The closest we have come to another Messenger around here is a young lord with a Pegassi on his palm that has come to study with the learned men of Alaria. I just hope Adok does not notice him.”

  Kyan said thoughtfully, “I suppose he will turn up eventually. Keep an eye on that lad, the last thing we need is another Tyne on the loose. We will be here by the end of the week if all goes well.”

  Bayard smiled, “I look forward to meeting your young Knight and hope he can do something for the dreadful mess that is Alaria.” Kyan waved farewell and vanished back to the inn where Kipril slept on unawares and updated Griffin on how matters stood in Alaria.

  The young lord Murdok paced the floor in the library, seemingly impatient for one of the ancient scholars of Alaria to continue his lesson, but the man had put himself to sleep mid-sentence and even now was snoring soundly in one of the dusty chairs that moldered in various awkward locations throughout the great library. Few save the scholars and their pupils ever haunted the ancient chamber crammed near to bursting with the writings of countless men from ages past, but today brought an astonishing personage into the musty room. Adok smiled slightly in triumph to find his quarry alone, he was curious about this visitor from a distant land and wished to know where all men of influence in the Kingdom stood on the question of the crown. He made the appropriate courtesies to the young Lord, who promptly returned them, then they drew aside so that they would not have to shout to be heard over the esteemed scholar’s snoring.

  “Welcome to Alaria my Lord,” said Adok with only a mild sneer, “I have been wishing to make your acquaintance. I hope I am not interrupting your studies?”

  Murdok smiled amusedly, “nay my Lord, we had just taken a little break. What would you have of me?”

  “Nothing much,” said Adok, studying the young man as a hawk studies a mouse, “I would just like to know your position on the current affairs in Alaria?”

  Murdok shook his head, “I have no position Sir, it is none of my concern save as it affects your illustrious library and famous scholars.”

  Adok nodded curtly, “attend to your own business then and nothing more and I shall trouble you no further.” His contemptuous smile deepened as he walked away, for he had confirmed what he had suspected after a glimpse from a distance. Alir had carefully hidden the mark on his hand, but this fool had not shown the least concern and it would be his undoing.

  Murdok returned to his sleeping tutor, smiled amusedly down at the ancient man, and then silently left the room. He found the Princess alone in her small garden, save for her ladies of course, where she had often sought solace of late. Gyor had all but given up her company, for he found her constant weeping an annoyance and it sharply reminded him of things he was trying very hard to forget. He was still intent on marrying the beautiful creature and was certain that once they returned to his Kingdom she would forget her previous sorrows and blossom anew. She gasped in surprise to see the foreign young lord standing in the midst of her sanctuary, for she was certain she had the only key and had locked the gate behind her. Murdok bowed abashedly, as if he knew the awkwardness of the situation, which immediately won her compassion and put her at ease, little knowing how lonely she was in her grief and how much she longed for a sympathetic listener.

  “I fear I have disturbed you Princess,” said he with great concern.

  She smiled shyly and said demurely, “nay my lord, I was just startled by your presence when I thought myself alone. How may I be of service to you? You must be quite lonely here in a strange land where all is amiss. I would warn you now to flee for your life sir, ere you are drawn into the evil here or destroyed by it.”

  The man bowed, “I thank you for your warnings lady, but that is precisely why I am here. You need someone to rescue you from your plight and save your Kingdom as well. It will be dangerous to all involved but are you at least willing to listen to my proposals?”

  She gasped in amazement and for the first time in weeks, hope filled her eyes, as she said, “Sir, I have prayed desperately for nothing else. Anything and everything in my power is at your command, if it will free my country from the dark cloud that now blots out all hope and light.”

  “This then,” said Murdok, “is what you must do. Go to your father and tell him as much as you can of your distress and the causes thereof. Declare that certain men have disgraced you and threaten the future of all you hold dear. When he asks what remedy can be made, demand that the champion of your choice be allowed to challenge these vile men in a week’s time. You will agree to marry the winner of the tournament and to him one day will go the crown.”

  She stared at him in amazement, “would you be so bold a champion sir?”

  Murdok shook his head, “nay lady, but such a man rides hither as we speak.”

  “But,” said she, “what if either my cousin or the vile prince win the day?”

  Murdok said sadly, “are you in any worse a state than you are at this moment?”

  She thought deeply for a few moments, wrestling with her heart, and a determined hope entered her once despairing eyes, “I will do it. As I cannot risk my life in challenging these usurpers, at least I can risk my heart to save all I hold dear. I will go to my father at once.”

  Murdok bowed deeply as the lady made ready to leave the garden, “if you have any questions or simply need someone to listen lady, I am ever at the ready.” She made him a splendid curtsy, smiled her thanks, and went to prepare for an audience with her father.

  The King was speechless when his daughter came before him to plead her case. His heart was still hers, beneath all the crusts and molds that had grown over it of late and he could not but assent to her pleas as right and proper. He summoned his nephew and the Prince and told them of the girl’s proposal. They were shocked that the timid creature had such nerve, but also quite eager to participate, as it would certainly expedite their own plans. The Prince asked suddenly, “I assume that if this unnamed champion is bested, we must also face each other?”

  The King said bluntly, “is that a problem Sire? You could certainly return to your father and leave matters to fall out as they will without risking a hair on your precious head.”

  The Prince reddened in anger at the King’s insult but he took a deep breath and said, “nay Majesty, I was just clarifying what would take place. I am no coward and will do my part.” He eyed Adok with growing suspicion, “and I hope this does not strain our friendship.”

  Adok sneered, “there will be but one victor and the others will no longer have a use for friends. I would go put my things in order were I you.”

  “I see,” said Gyor coldly, “so it is and thus shall it be.” He turned to the King and his nephew, bowed curtly, and said, “until the appointed day then.” He turned and left the room. Adok bowed to his uncle and left by another door. The King turned to the window and stared unseeing into space, wondering what had beset his thoughts of late and how it had come to this and if there were any rescue from this mire of his own making.

  In the few days remaining until the anticipated contest, Murdok spent much time in company with the Princess, which cheered her greatly, as did having some salvation to look forward to. The Prince and Adok avoided one another, the lady, and the King, but both became incensed at the young lord and his meddling in affairs not his own, and both looked forward to making an end of the man once they had been declared the victor. The King noticed his daughter’s joy in the presence of the young lord and asked her one day if this were not her champion.

  She said in perplexity, “nay Sire, but he comes soon. I do not know why the young man will not fight, but I find him very much a relief compared to the company I have been keeping of late.”

  “As you wish it my dear,” said the King
in concern, “I just fear for him if one of your previous companions is victorious.”

  “Then I would fear for us all, father,” said she grimly.

  The days drug on for all waiting for the pivotal day, but at last the champion arrived the evening before the slated day. Garren had returned to the little company to tell them of all that was passing in Alaria and what was to be expected upon their arrival. Kyan and Griffin would happily act as Kipril’s squires while the young Knight rode in in full armor. After a night’s rest, the tournament would begin early the next day with the winner taking all. As Garren made to leave once more, Kipril asked of him, “will you not ride in with us?”

  He shook his head and said, “nay lad, I dare not leave things unattended but I will await you in Alaria.” The boy frowned, for the man could not get there very much ahead of them but when he turned to protest, Garren was gone. He gave his companions a questioning look but they could only shake their heads and shrug.

  The much anticipated hero arrived but the Princess would have no chance to meet him unless he was triumphant on the morrow. She asked of Murdok, “what sort of man is he?”

  Murdok smiled gently and said, “the very best and the only hope for the Kingdom.”

  The man went to bed after dining privately with his squires, for he wished to be well rested for the tournament after his journey. Adok and Gyor glimpsed him from a distance and spoke with the servants who had attended him and all they heard and saw convinced them that he was of peasant stock and not very much to be feared. The true contest would be between themselves. Gyor was not sure whether he would not rather lose than go on living in the pit of his own treachery and despair. Adok just assumed himself victorious and began to plot what would come after his triumph. He smiled darkly, thinking of one small pleasure he might allow himself before the competition, which would make his victory all the sweeter. As for the Messengers about the palace, they were ever vigilant and wondered over this young lord and his ability to shape events in such a hopeful direction.

  Morning finally came and the much longed for event was about to begin. Adok drew the young lord aside and asked if they might have a word before he had to go prepare for the tournament. The library was empty at this time of day and Adok thought it rather poetic for what he intended. Said he without preamble, “I told you to mind your own business, but you have meddled much in affairs not your own. Now you must pay for your temerity. Long have I been looking forward to this day!” He grabbed Murdok’s wrist and turned the palm upwards, that he might be certain of the emblem it bore. He laughed as he said, “but even if you had not meddled, I would still require your blood. This time there shall be no mistake.”

  The young lord did not struggle or protest or even cry out as Adok pushed him back into one of the decrepit chairs and drove a dagger into his heart. Certain of his success, he left to prepare for his second triumph of the day. Bayard had been shadowing Adok and was horrified but not surprised by his treatment of the young lord; he lingered a moment in the library with the murdered youth, not quite knowing what to do. “Do not just stand there,” said a familiar voice, “we have work to do.” Bayard stared in astonishment but promptly saluted the new Captain of the Messengers. Garren smiled at his flummoxed colleague, as he said, “quite a useful skill that, being able to disguise myself as a mortal man at need. I even fooled you!”

  Bayard grinned, “I take it that Adok has failed again in his attempt to satisfy the blood price for his foul Ritual?”

  Garren laughed, “he cannot use the blood of a man beyond death. Come!” They dashed out of the room, invisible to mortal eye. There was much excitement amongst the Messengers to finally be doing something besides watching events unfold, but even more so were they eager to have their Captain among them at last.

  The King and Princess were ensconced in a booth with an excellent view of the field while the three combatants were quickly preparing themselves for the day’s events. The Messengers were scattered about the crowd and field keeping a sharp eye out for any interference from the Enemy, all unseen save Kyan and Griffin. Garren reappeared as himself rather than as the mysterious Lord Murdok, who was never seen in Alaria again. He approached the eager Kipril to wish him well in all that was to come, said the boy, “I feared you would not be here or things would be amiss when we arrived, but things have been exactly as you have said, thank you!”

  Garren smiled, “if you want to thank me, do your very best out there and save this fair land from evil men.” The boy saluted, shut his visor, and turned his aging charger onto the field whence the judges had called the competitors.

  Kyan asked Garren, “what happens now?”

  The Captain said hopefully, but finished on a grim note, “they live happily ever after if the boy is triumphant, otherwise things will become very dark indeed. Keep an eye on the lad, I must speak with some of the others.”

  He waded into the crowd and caught the eye of both Tabor and Aril, they nodded and followed him to a forgotten corner behind one of the tents. Said he, “if things go ill for the Prince and the lord Adok, they may seek redemption ere the end; I want the two of you ready if they need someone to talk to at the last.”

  Tabor asked, “is it wise to reveal ourselves to mortal men?”

  Garren said sadly, “as death approaches we will no longer be hidden from their sight, but perhaps you can do much to draw them out of the darkness and into our Master’s light. The young Prince is eaten up with guilt and shame, knowing there is forgiveness and hope may be the key to snatching him from the Abyss; I do not hold out much hope for your brother Aril.”

  The boy nodded grimly, “neither do I but I will try.”

  The trumpet rang to announce the first charge and Garren said eagerly, “it has begun.”

  They left their hiding place, though Garren was the only visible one of the trio, and ran to the field to watch the outcome of the first match. Kipril had paired off with Adok and they met just as the Messengers reached the edge of the field. Adok’s lance glanced off of Kipril’s shoulder but the boy’s lance pierced the villain’s chest. The man fell from his saddle with a groan and a bevy of servants ran to the fallen man to give what aid they could. Kipril raised his visor, looked sadly down upon his fallen foe, turned his horse, and returned to the starting point for his next round. They carried Adok off the field even as Gyor hoisted himself into the saddle and rode out for the next round. Aril ghosted after the men bearing his brother and waited for the diagnosis.

  The doctor looked him over, shook his head gravely, and dismissed almost everyone from the tent. Adok snarled and hissed so much at the physician that he too left as soon as he was certain he had done all he could for the injured boy, but it was only a matter of time now. Adok was now alone, as he wished to be. Where was the fell messenger from his master to deliver him from this death? Alir suddenly appeared to him and he raged all the more against fate and death and his vile master.

  “No one is coming,” said Alir calmly, “you will die.”

  Adok snarled, “at least such news comes from an expert in the field. What know you of my fate? I have struck a bargain that will free me from the maw of death!”

  Alir shook his head, “the man you think you murdered to spare yourself was already beyond death; his blood counts for nothing. Will you die a heretic and face eternity alone?”

  Adok laughed and laughed some more and soon his laughter turned to spasmodic coughing and then he lay still, exhausted and groaning with each breath, said he faintly, “I denied your Master in life, why would I seek Him on the verge of death…” He faded away and said no more. Aril turned away, overwrought with grief; Garren put a firm hand on his shoulder and led him back out to the field where the next charge was about to begin.

  “You did all you could lad,” said Garren quietly, “in the end, we each must make our own choice and it grieves the Master far more than us, ima
gine His own pain.” The boy sighed, smiled weakly, and turned to watch the last charge.

  Gyor’s heart was not in the match as he spurred his charger forward and his lance sagged to the side even as Kipril’s drove deep into his abdomen. The darkness claimed him and he knew no more. Kipril stripped off his helmet and was about to dismount and run to the side of the prone man, but the officials drove him back to the sidelines where the rules said he must await the results of the contest. Others would see to the wounded. Kipril rode back and dismounted, his heart aching for those he had bested.

  Kyan said quietly, “for the winner you are in rather a quiet mood.”

  Kipril nodded, “I may have won a Princess or a crown or saved a country or whatever I am supposed to have done, but I have just killed two men! The second was not even trying, his was a suicide!”

  Kyan said grimly, “it is far from easy being the hand of justice, but it was the fate they chose. They will have a last chance to seek the Master ere all is done.” Kipril sighed heavily and allowed his companions to help strip off his armor as they awaited the final announcement.

  They took Gyor back to his tent and the doctor again shook his head grimly, saw to his comfort, and went to speak with the officials and the King. The Prince lay insensible, a state he had hoped would last for all eternity, but all too soon his eyes fluttered open and he saw that he was nearly alone. He turned weakly to look upon the sole occupant of the tent and nearly lapsed into unconsciousness again upon recognizing Tabor. Said the Prince with a weak grin, “you look good for a dead man.”

  Tabor smiled and sat beside the Prince on the bed, glad to see that all his suspicion and jealousy were gone and the easy-natured banter they had shared as boyhood friends had returned. In reply Tabor joked, “and you look awful.”

  Gyor tried to laugh but only managed a wince of pain, and then he turned his head to look Tabor in the eye and very nearly wept, “I am terribly sorry, for everything!”

  Tabor squeezed the dying man’s hand and said, “I know, but it is not me to whom you owe an apology. The Master alone can forgive your wretchedness and in Him can you find hope, even amid the ashes and dust of death.”

  “Tell me more,” came the avid plea. And so he did.

  His wound was less vital than that of Adok but it was still fatal, but at least he had a little time to make amends to those he had so mistreated. Kipril was the first to ask if he might see the dying Prince, though it was highly improper for the victor to look upon his defeated foes, the boy could care less and wanted to see what kind of a man his opponent was. The Prince eyed Tabor with some concern as Kipril entered, but he shook his head slightly and put a finger to his lips; Kipril saw nothing but the stricken Prince.

  Gyor actually smiled weakly and held out a hand to his killer, said he, “thank you.” Kipril stared at him as if he were in a premortum delirium but the Prince continued, “thank you for helping me realize what a fool and a monster I had become. In depriving me of all mortal ambition you have woken my anguished soul to the things that matter most in this life and in that to come. I die at peace with my Maker and I hope with all mankind.”

  Kipril took the proffered hand, squeezed it, and said quietly, “a pity you could not come to such a realization during the prime of life.”

  Gyor nodded sadly, “I had a dear friend who tried valiantly to convince me of the same, but at least he succeeded before it was too late.” Kipril bowed deeply and withdrew that the King and Princess might speak with the fading Prince. He smiled weakly at them both and said with tear filled eyes, “I am terribly sorry my Lord and my Lady, but I have paid the price for my folly and hope you can forgive me ere all is done. I have been a tyrant and a fool, but have at last seen the light and found the Master’s hope. I do not die in shame or despair.” They heartily forgave him, said their goodbyes, and withdrew. The doctor returned, examined the patient, and determined it would not be long.

  Gyor sighed to Tabor once they were alone again, “I wish I could give my apologies to Aril, I should have spoken on his behalf.” Tabor smiled and a moment later the boy entered the tent. Gyor frowned in perplexity and then smiled as he greeted the boy and then apologized for standing aside when he might have spared the lad.

  Aril grinned from ear to ear, “rest easy Highness, for there are more adventures to come.”

  Gyor asked, “is that what eternity entails? Wandering about as disembodied spirits to calm your agitated kith and kin at the last?”

  Tabor shook his head and smiled, “no, my friend. Most men pass either into the Abyss or enter the Master’s presence at death. But there are a few of us who have volunteered to fight those servants of the Enemy which mortal man cannot defeat. I don’t suppose you would be interested?”

  Garren barged into the tent and gave Tabor an amused look, “I am supposed to be in charge of recruitment lad.”

  Tabor smiled, “sorry Sir.”

  Garren eyed the stricken youth, “well lad? Are you interested in joining us or will you pass beyond this mortal sphere?”

  Gyor said quietly, “I appreciate the offer but I think this place is no longer my home…” He breathed his last and the Messengers withdrew even as the doctor entered to confirm that the Prince had expired. With the passing of the Prince, the officials proclaimed Kipril the winner and hastened to introduce him to the King and the Princess.

  There was soon much celebrating in the Kingdom, especially once the King got past his shock that his new son-in-law was a peasant and a groom at that, but the entire country felt as if a great, dark cloud had lifted off their souls and there had never been such a joyous celebration in the entire history of the Realm. The King drew Kipril aside for a time during the days’ long carousal and told all that happened in the days leading up to recent events. Kipril introduced him to the Master and His hope and soon the tears came and the healing began. It was not long after that the couple was married and a new era began in the once moldering Kingdom. The King was so excited about his new faith that he soon began to proclaim it to anyone and everyone he met, so much so that he soon retired his crown and went on the road to proclaim his message. So astonished were the people that they actually listened and received his message with joy and thus began a revival in that once grim country. The new King and Queen ruled long over a peaceful and thriving Kingdom and so did their children to the fourth generation, but that is quite another story. One happy ending achieved, there are many others to be attempted.

  Tabor felt a great need to bear his deceased friend home and to tell of all that had happened in Alaria of late. Bayard gladly accompanied him while the others dispersed about other pressing errands. Posing as a Lord of Itharia and his faithful servant about to return home, it was not difficult to obtain permission from the King of Alaria, along with a letter of condolence to Gyor’s father, to bear the dead Prince home. All hoped that the untimely demise of the young Prince would not cause an international crisis, but as the boy had died in voluntary combat, it was likely to be seen as a matter of private honor rather than an incident to ignite a war. Once well out of the city, the Pegassi shifted slightly and they were immediately in Itharia. The poor pack animal bearing the late Prince was not sure what to think, so bore it as he did everything else, with decided indifference, a trait which made this animal worth his weight in gold. They were no longer a faux Lord and his servant but rather Tabor was again himself and Bayard a lordly companion met in Alaria. They immediately applied to the King (a move which vexed Tabor’s father greatly) and informed him of events in Alaria.

  He read the letter and kept gaping in disbelief between these harbingers of doom and the letter that bore similar tidings. Finally he contained his shock and said rather gruffly, “so it is, I suppose I cannot hold Alaria responsible for my son’s reckless actions. Gyor’s younger brother will be quite happy, as now he is heir to the throne. At least someone will find joy in this circumstance.�
�� Tabor thought quietly to himself that the remaining young Prince would make a far superior King one day than his late brother. The King sighed heavily and said, “I suppose you must go see your father Tabor, but I thank you for bringing my son home and being such a friend to him.”

  Tabor bowed himself out and left the King alone with his grief. Bayard followed after like a curious puppy and together they went in search of Tabor’s father, who had expected his son to pay his respects at home first. As they left the King, a short, shadowy figure passed them in the corridor, sneered at them as he passed, and entered the room they had just vacated. The Messengers exchanged a look of revulsion and wondered who or what this foul feeling person might be that he could intrude upon the King unannounced. “I do not like this,” said Bayard.

  “Neither do I,” agreed Tabor, “we shall look into the matter further after we have spoken with my father. Perhaps he knows of this creature and his relationship to the King.” They hastily sought out Tabor’s father, but he was not in residence in the castle or even in the city, but had withdrawn to his family estates for a time. Grateful once again for the swiftness of the Pegassi, the journey took only moments when it once meant a full day of hard riding.

  They were admitted to see the old man, who was ensconced in his study with various medical men around him, vainly seeking a cure for his gout. Upon sighting his son, he temporarily dismissed the quacks and looked eagerly to the boy, hoping to be the first to hear the tale of happenings in Alaria. He was not the first, but saved his scorn until the boy had told all. “A peasant will sit on the throne?” said he in dismay, “what is the world coming to? You could have entered the lists and won the Princess!”

  Tabor shook his head, “such is not for me, Sir.”

  The old man scoffed, “well, you always have been a disappointment, and now you cannot even claim friendship with the crown Prince as an asset in your favor. You are useless, boy, useless!”

  Tabor bowed in acquiescence but said nothing until the man had vented his rage and sat down wearily. Said the boy at last, “when we left the King there was a short man with an evil look about him who went in to the King unannounced. Have you any idea who it could be?”

  The aging lord snarled, “some new advisor of the King’s, he is even more useless than you. No one knows where he came from or what his qualifications are, but he is certainly not of noble blood and therefore has no right to be advising the King. But the King insists that the creature hang about, much like the pox to my mind, but one cannot gainsay the King in such matters. I cannot stand the creature personally and he is the reason I left, that and my gout was flaring up. The King has no time for anyone but him. Perhaps you should go back to the castle and leave an old man in peace, maybe you could gain the friendship of the new crown prince or something useful?” Tabor bowed, hiding a smile, said his farewells, and told the hedge doctors that his father would see them once more as he withdrew.

  They swiftly returned to the castle, eager to know more of this vile advisor to the King and as it turned out, he was just as eager to speak to them of happenings in Alaria. A servant found them in the stables upon their return and asked if they might not join the most esteemed Ickor for a private chat. They agreed and hastened after the servant to wait upon this most interesting person. The servant left them in the sitting room of the man’s extensive chambers and he soon joined them, arrayed in his regal best while the Messengers were clad as men who had spent the day outdoors in muddy weather. He enjoyed the contrast immensely. Said he without preamble, “I have long wished to make your acquaintance my Lord Tabor, a pity I never will have a chance to meet the late Prince. Can you tell me more of all that happened in Alaria?”

  Tabor seated himself and Bayard followed suit, which annoyed their host as he had hoped to keep them standing awkwardly about, but Tabor recounted the tale again, now well rehearsed in the telling. Said Ickor with some heat, “strange you did not enter the lists yourself?”

  Tabor scoffed, “such is not for me, Sir. How come you to know and advise the King on so short an acquaintance?”

  The man smiled proudly, “a man who knows as much as I about the world and everything in it will have little difficulty in finding a place of influence. A pity you will never know such renown.” “But…,” continued he thoughtfully, “your father is a very powerful man and you will succeed him upon his death. We could be very useful to one another.”

  Tabor stood, “I think not. Perhaps we have taken up too much of your time, Sir.”

  Ickor smiled contemptuously at his young companion’s sudden agitation, “what will you do with yourself now, my Lord? I suppose withdraw to the country like your father?”

  Tabor said calmly, “I shall remain here for a time.”

  “Do not meddle in the affairs of your betters boy!” snarled Ickor, “if you were wise, you would ride home immediately and stay there.”

  Tabor said stonily, “is that a threat, Sir?”

  Ickor smiled eagerly, “nay lad, it is a promise. The King has no patience with those who meddle in his affairs, most especially upstart young lordlings looking to promote themselves whatever chance they get, even be it the death of his beloved son.”

  Tabor smiled ironically, “and how is it that you have advised the King to proceed in this affair?”

  Ickor returned the sardonic smile and said, “war, boy! We cannot abide such an insult from Alaria, especially with a peasant on the throne!”

  Tabor made to leave and said in farewell, “then Sir, be assured that I will meddle.” He and Bayard withdrew to speak alone, leaving the advisor to fret and fume and plot as he would.

  “I do not like this at all,” said Tabor grimly, “this man is certainly evil but is he in the thrall of the Enemy or simply a mortal man looking to advance his own cause?”

  Bayard shook his head, “I do not like the feel of him certainly, but I do not know if this is a foe we can manage. He certainly seems intent on removing any obstacles that stand between him and whatever he wants. Will the King listen to us?”

  Tabor shook his head, “he has some uncanny ability to sway the King’s thinking, we must somehow remove him from the King’s side before we can have any hope of gaining the King’s ear.”

  Bayard frowned, “murder would perhaps be the most expedient alternative, save that it is no option for men in the Master‘s service!”

  Tabor grinned, “nay my friend, I do not speak of murder. Rather we will make such a nuisance of ourselves that the man inadvertently exposes himself as what he is. If he is a fiend with which we can deal, we shall not hesitate, but if he is a mortal villain, he will make it known to one and all.”

  Bayard smiled eagerly, “this will be rather amusing I think.”

  Tabor laughed, “that it will my friend. Come, we had better make a start before the King rides to war against his longtime ally.”

  They found a servant and asked if they might speak to the King. The man looked rather aghast but said he would look into the matter. He returned quickly and said in amazement, “His Majesty the King will see you once more, but this shall be the last audience allowed unless he asks to see you.” Tabor bowed and the man hurried them along to see the King.

  The King was still in the room where they had last seen him but he paced up and down, rather than sitting calmly in a chair by the fire as he had during their previous audience. Said he without preamble, “I suppose you have come to tell me the I should not declare war on Alaria or that Ickor is a bad influence? Well, so has every other person in the Kingdom, at least as far as my Advisors go. I do not understand it myself, when he is with me I think him the wisest person in the world and the moment he leaves I loathe the very mention of his name. But his advice is sound, at least when he is here. When he is gone I doubt even myself, thus I must rely on his counsel. I do not want to go to war, but he thinks it advisable.” He frowned, “why am I liste
ning to a man I loath? Who is King? Not he! This is ridiculous, what am I thinking…but when he is present I cannot think at all. When he is gone, even hearing his name makes me shudder.” He spitted the pair with a stare, “I need to be rid of this menace and you two are going to do it else I will ride to war in spite of myself.”

  Tabor bowed, “we will do everything in our power to rid your Kingdom of this creature Majesty.” For the first time in weeks, the King felt some stirring of hope and actually managed a slight smile. They bowed themselves out and exchanged an eager look.

  Bayard asked ruefully, “I thought we were not going to murder the man?”

  Tabor grinned, “no mortal man, save perhaps some sort of evil mage, can have such an influence over the King, therefore he must be one of our Enemy’s pets and thus is he fair game, but if he is some sort of sorcerer, we can do him no harm. Come!” They drew their swords and ran down the corridor, seeking out their prey.

  Bayard shook his head, “so much for subtlety.”

  Tabor laughed, “we have no time to be subtle but we have the King’s blessing for outright murder, if necessary.”

  Anyone they met in the hall screamed and dove for cover and soon the guards were called to put an end to their antics, but they hastened on heedlessly. Their prey was not content to wait idly by while these young fools made a hash of his work with the King. He had warned them and in defying him, they had made a mortal enemy. He was indeed some foul minion of evil and a spider through and through. He leapt upon Tabor and bit him on the neck while Bayard raised his sword and vanquished the menace, but not before creature used one of its many legs to decapitate the young Messenger. They vanished together, leaving the senseless Tabor lying where he had fallen. The guards caught up with the hooligans just in time to witness the final confrontation. They had no explanation, except to say that the onetime advisor to the King must be some sort of villainous sorcerer who had kept the King in his thrall and murdered an esteemed Lord’s only heir.

  It was a grand funeral, even Tabor’s father had to agree that perhaps at last his son had done something worthwhile in attempting to free the King of the vile mage’s undue influence. The Prince and his friend were buried side by side with much pomp, though only the former rested in peace. Tabor awoke from the stupefying effects of the venom to find himself in a place utterly dark and confined. Realizing that he had been buried alive, he easily freed himself from what should have been his grave and returned to the world of the living. His Pegassi stood nearby, awaiting his emergence, as if he were some sort of pupating insect rather than a man entombed. They greeted one another warmly and vanished upon their next adventure, unseen by any mortal eye.

  The years passed, as years do, but the Messengers little heeded the passing centuries, for them time was of little matter. Men continued to live and strive, as men will, and ever were the Messengers there to see that they could do so in peace, at least in peace from certain vile creatures of evil intent. One day a certain man busy with said striving, made a remarkable discovery: he discovered how to blow things up. After all, what is a story without explosions? So it was that man entered a new and more dangerous Age, at least it was a tad more exciting with the advent of gunpowder. The Enemy’s minions were not long in devising new and vile strategies for this improvisation, one of which completely baffled Garren until he thought of the ramifications to the world as they knew it. He and his Pegassi suddenly appeared above the great cataract that fell endlessly into the Void, perched precariously on an outcropping of stone, far above two or three dozen vile creatures of the Enemy’s make were busy with some project near the rent in the rim of the world. The pair knew they were not to engage, but merely observe the fell creatures, who seemed to be rigging up some sort of apparatus consisting of what appeared to be ropes and barrels along the gap in the stony ridge that ringed in the world.

  There came a tremendous explosion and the breach widened a hundredfold, carrying all the vile creatures and an eager roar of water over the edge into Nothing. The Sea began to drain like an unstopped tub and in a matter of days, there would be nothing left of the great body of water but a few lakes and puddles. Garren shared a grim look with the Pegassi, with the loss of the Sea, weather patterns would shift drastically and no doubt drought would soon ensue, if not the utter collapse of life in the mortal sphere. Their grim look turned to one of eagerness as they suddenly knew the Day had come. The captain vanished to marshal his troops, little caring now that life as they knew it had ended, for life as they knew it had ended, regardless of the Enemy’s plots and ploys. It was as if a great game of that rather boring (to Garren’s mind) variety played endlessly between aging lords was in progress, the Enemy had made a daring move, crying, ‘check!’ But alas for him, it was his opponent who would say ‘checkmate!’

  Garren appeared upon the muddy flat that had once been the seabed and behind him gradually assembled a countless array of Pegassi and their riders, glowing to shame the sun, and any number of strange creatures from Beyond the Morning. Before them gathered a howling, ragged mob of disparate and loathsome creatures beyond description. The shamed sun, sank behind the distant mountains and fell into the Abyss, never again to be seen, at least in this story. An ominous full moon rose, the color of dried blood. The stars fell from their courses and went hurtling into the Void, after the vanished sun. The light of the Pegassi shone the brighter and Garren ordered the charge upon the hideous minions who grew bold in the unnatural night. The two armies clashed and one by one, the combatants vanished from the field and did not return.

  Meanwhile, mortal men quivered in dread, wondering what had come upon the world, little realizing that as all tales, theirs too must End, and also forgetting that Happily Ever After was wont to follow. They had heard rumors that the Sea was dropping or had dried up entirely, they knew the morning rains were scant or absent and wondered all the more. Now there was such a hideous dread upon the earth that all mortal hearts quailed in terror. An eerie light shone in the direction of the vanished Sea but was soon enough put out, but then a great and awful shadow crept across the face of the world and vile laughter seemed to echo on the anguished wind that suddenly howled out of the Void. A little bird swooped into the grim dark, lit upon a stone, cocked his head, and the earth trembled. The laughter became scornful and mocking; the magpie cocked his head the other direction and the laughter became a keening howl of terror and despair. The night deepened to absolute dark and then to blinding day. Mortal heart soon found itself following that dreadful shadow into the Abyss or blinking in astonishment at this glorious new Day and all the wonders therein, of which this tale cannot even begin to tell.

  Upon a Far Mountain:

  It was a land of extremes in both topography and weather, as if the geography and climate of the place had been locked in a bitter disagreement since the dawn of time and all that could be agreed upon was to allow all sides representation in space or time, respectively. There were soaring mountains and highlands shrouded in mist and heather that looked down from their mysterious heights upon the rolling, relatively tame lowlands where agriculture and civilization flourished. Winter was a fickle mistress, bitter cold one day and burying the vales in voluminous snow the next, but neither was summer a season of mildness and balmy warmth, for at times her heat could rival that of the southern deserts and at others one might think winter’s breath had come again. The people of that realm were as unfettered and wild as their homeland; sturdy, stubborn, and strong were they, and extremely proud of those very traits. It was into this stark country that the ‘milk-hearted princess’ came as a young bride and here where she bore sons to a King as rugged and untamed as the land he ruled. Though Queen, she was never accepted as one of the people of the land, and ever she dwelt apart, though she was publicly tolerated when necessary, mostly she was ignored and gradually she came to accept her social isolation with a peaceful forbearance.

  Her husband was p
leased, for she bore him many fine sons, and all but the second favored their sire in looks and personality. With so many sturdy lads to call his own, the King little noticed the pale milksop that clung wide-eyed to his mother’s skirts and never said a word in his presence. His brothers hassled the unfortunate Bayard ceaselessly, as much as their mother would allow, but as they abandoned the nursery for the stableyard and their toys for swords, they left their milksop of a brother to his books and pursued those activities of which their father thought most highly: horsemanship and the warrior arts. So it was that the boy and his mother were left in relative peace and the Queen and her embarrassing offspring were very nearly forgotten, which was a blessing to the pair that still found themselves strangers in this bleak land, though one was a native born and the other had lived there for many a year. Her childbearing done, the King little troubled himself with the Queen thereafter and would certainly not lay claim to that unfortunate coward of a second child when he had six other lads to fill his hours and aspirations. So the Queen passed her fading years in peace, keeping easy company with her despised son, and they found much joy in one another.

  But even as the lad approached manhood, the Queen began to fail and soon died, leaving the boy alone amidst a people he hardly knew though they were his own kin. His grief at his mother’s passing was extreme, the sense that he had landed suddenly upon a foreign shore was baffling, and the antipathy shown by not only his brothers but his father and the entire court sorely crushed his already bruised soul. Worse, there were darker rumors abroad, of which he could speak to no one, but nobody bothered to lower their voices when they knew he was near and some even hinted at things best left unthought, let alone unsaid. The boy shuddered in horror and fled as fast as decorum allowed, leaving the bearer of such tidings to smirk after in contempt before regaling the entire court with tales of his cowardice. So it continued for nearly a month and the boy was beside himself, unable to sleep, eating hardly anything, and little daring to leave the relative safety of his quarters, but these reminded him too much of his loss to allow any respite from his grief. He might have gone mad or done himself harm had things continued much longer in this vein, but relief, at least of a sort, came at last.

  Every spring, as soon as the passes opened, an old cleric came to the ancient castle perched in crumbling splendor among the mountains from which the King ruled the vast and wild country. Some might argue that having his seat of power in one of the large and prosperous lowland cities would be a far better idea, or at least more convenient, but the King had always ruled from this remote corner of the realm, and if it was good enough for one’s father’s father’s fathers, then it was good enough in perpetuity. The King and his court had little use for meddling clerics of any sort, but the late Queen was of a queer and foreign sect that had accompanied her upon her nuptial journey and ever did she cling to the tenets of her heathen faith, even with her dying breath. The gods of wood, river, and hill were enough for the folk thereabouts, but the King saw little harm in allowing his lady her head in this matter, especially as she had borne him so many sons, so he turned a blind eye when the wandering ecclesiastic made his annual appearance at the Queen’s behest, like some bird that returns every spring to roost in the same bedraggled tree. But with the Queen dead, the unwitting man might receive quite a different reception this year.

  Bayard saw the man striding up the steep and crumbling path towards the keep and hastened down to meet him ere he came to mischief by inquiring of the wrong persons in search of the late Queen. The boy met the man before he entered the gates and was heartily greeted by the cleric, whose tone suddenly grew quiet with concern as he took in the wan, ragged creature before him. Without a word, the man turned abruptly up a path ascending into the spindly pinewood that clung to the hillside above the castle; the boy followed silently after. Once they were assured of some privacy, the man asked after all that had happened since his last visit. The lad at long last unburdened his heart, having had no congenial ear since his mother’s passing. The man nodded gravely as the boy spoke but said nothing until the lad had trailed off into sniffling silence.

  Said the cleric at last, “once I was loath to undertake such an arduous journey year in and year out solely for the sake of one poor woman, Queen though she be, but at her father’s insistence and later with her beseeching request, have I faithfully made the journey every spring since her exile to this heathen land, and for both her sake and your own, my prince, I am glad that I have. Your mother’s death saddens me, especially as it leaves you alone among such a wild folk, but these rumors you mention curdle my blood, yet you say they are not the worst of what you have overheard?”

  The boy nodded grimly and the man blanched in horror. “What am I to do?” demanded the overwrought boy, “would my mother’s kin take me in?”

  The cleric shook his head sadly, “your mother was sacrificed in a political alliance and is spoken of as one dead by her own folk, her father’s only concession to her fate was to insist upon my yearly pilgrimage for her benefit and succor. They would look upon your father’s blood as your father’s folk look upon your mother’s.” The boy nodded dully, feeling that his only, desperate hope had been stillborn. But the sage continued in a thoughtful tone, as if he spoke more to himself than for the boy’s benefit, “you are intent on leaving however? It seems obvious your own folk have no use for you nor you for them. You cannot return to your mother’s folk, but the world is wide and full of wonders, perhaps you can yet find your place in it? Remaining here will only spell your own doom or worse, and neither can these rumors be ignored as mere gossip. No, you must leave, and the sooner the better. But where to go?”

  He frowned thoughtfully for a few minutes and his countenance gradually warmed until he was actually smiling as he said, “what say your folk of the ruins upon that mountain yonder, lad?”

  The boy shivered, “they say little of it, but the old tales say it is a place of death and ghosts, where unholy rituals were practiced in forgotten years and never has the place forgotten the blood that was spilled therein.”

  The old man smiled wryly, “that is an interesting interpretation and I suppose not surprising coming from those who worship the minor fiends of field and wood. Nay lad, if there was any necromancy done there in past years, it was not done by the original inhabitants of that place. In a long forgotten age, it was a center of learning and wisdom, now it lies in ruin and even its memory is profaned. You could venture thither and see what, if anything, remains of the vanished past.”

  The boy smiled grimly, “let me guess, my father’s forebears came to this place, claimed lordship over all, and didn’t like anything reeking even faintly of knowledge so destroyed the place?”

  The old sage nodded, “that about sums it up. They didn’t exactly salt the ground but they dispersed the monks that kept the records, chased off the students, burned most of the library, and let the rest fall into ruin. Spreading a few tales of infamy and murder didn’t hurt either. Now your father’s folk avoid the place like a cat a puddle.”

  The boy smiled quizzically, “if there is nothing there and has not been for centuries, what then is the purpose in my going thither?”

  The man smiled mysteriously, “I did not say there was nothing there, perhaps you will find whatever it is you need most, even if you do not as yet know what that is. At least it will get you away from here and your folk are unlikely to follow you thither without very good reason. You can always continue on your way after a brief visit, if it proves fruitless as you fear, it is as good a direction as any and will keep your father’s folk from dogging your footsteps.”

  The boy snorted, “if they’d even bother.”

  The man said gravely, “they may care little for you as kith or kin, but I can see some of them trying something either for their own gain or simply because it would cause you misery. And do not forget the rumors.”

  The boy nodded grimly, “very well, I shall set
off at once. Will you accompany me for part of the journey, wherever it takes me? I do not think it wise for you to enter the keep.”

  The man shook his head, “nay lad, I have done what I came to do, though not what I had intended when I left upon this venture. I’ll make my way back to civilization by another road and hopefully draw any watching eyes away from your own retreat. This journey you must make alone.” The boy bowed his head in assent, but a look of grief crossed his face for he felt as if he were bidding farewell to perhaps his last friend among mortal men. The man looked sadly at the lad and said fondly, “fear not lad, it will be well, though for a little while all seems bleak and grim. You do not go alone, no matter how alone you feel.” With that, he embraced the boy and hastened from the little wood, hoping to draw the curious eyes he knew would be watching.

  Bayard watched him wistfully for a moment, but knew time was of the essence and soon hied himself off into the wood, skirting the hillside and intending to cross the valley separating this mountain from the next under cover of the trees. Only one set of eyes watched him go while all others watched smugly as the monk fled back to his own country. The silent watcher went to make his own preparations, knowing full well what the fool boy intended, even if he did not know it himself.

  Kyan began the ascent, his plain-bred head still dizzy from the unaccustomed heights and thin air, but he was nearing his goal and no headache or shortness of breath could keep him from finding what he sought, if only he knew exactly what that was. He knew he sought the ruins strewn about the side of this particular mountain, but why exactly he could not fathom; he just knew it was his destiny to find them. Huffing and puffing, he collapsed among the scattered stones that marked the beginning of what might once have been a road. He smiled wanly; he was close, very close. An involuntary shudder ran down his spine, he also knew this adventure might ask more of him than he was willing to give. He set a grim smile on his face, gained his feet, and prepared for his final march when an unfamiliar voice asked, “where are you going?”

  The boy turned in astonishment to look into the eyes of a lad his own age, a highlander by the look of him and one who was well acquainted with grief. Said Kyan tremulously, “I was just going to have a look at the ruins up ahead.”

  Bayard nodded grimly, “can I come with you? I have a similar mission but suddenly feel my nerve is lacking. What do you know of this place?”

  Kyan shook his head, “only that I need to go hence.” He paused and added far more quietly, “and that it well may cost me my life.”

  Bayard frowned, “how can a forgotten rock heap cost someone their life?”

  Kyan shook his head, “it is not the ruin but what lurks therein. It is whispered that some great treasure awaits those willing to give their own lives in pursuit of it.”

  Bayard nodded thoughtfully, “he said it was not an empty shell.” He barked a wry laugh, “what have I to lose? Madness and death are all that I leave behind and only a cold, mean world awaits me beyond these mountains. Very well, let us see if this treasure will avail us.”

  Kyan gaped after the retreating prince, hastening to catch up, but finally they marched side by side to the very rim of the ruin. Enough stones still stood in their places that one could make out a circular wall of stone but little else remained of the ancient structure. An old man sat on a stone by the only entrance into the stony enclosure, wheezing over his pipe, said he, “it be death to enter lads, be sensible and go home lest your mothers have reason to weep.”

  The boys exchanged a grim smile and Kyan dashed through the gate, immediately falling forward and neither moving nor making any sound, but Bayard noted with some relief that the blankly staring boy was still breathing, if very slowly. The man blew out his smoke in agitation and shook his head, “what did I tell you? Come lad, at least help me tend to your friend here ere you make twice the work for me alone. You still set on doing likewise?” The man laid aside his pipe, took up a long pole with a hook on one end, and catching one of Kyan’s boots with the thing, drew the prone form out of the encircling ruin.

  Bayard stared in astonishment at the prone form of his former companion, who was as close to dead as a mortal being can get without actually dying. Was he willing to endure the same for an unknown and perhaps nonexistent treasure? Suddenly he was unsure. At least he could gain some time to reconsider in helping this strange old man see to Kyan. Between them, they hefted the lad down the hillside and into a cavern immediately beneath the standing stones above. Something rustled unseen above them and the man muttered, “settle down ye daft things, it be me.” The man set down his end of their burden and unceremoniously swept a few bones that were slowly crumbling to dust from the top of a stone bier where they had lain for years beyond count. Happy with his housekeeping, they took up the inert Kyan and placed him on the bier, as one interred though he still drew breath, if barely.

  Bayard studied the silent form for some time and then asked, “what happened to him, what will happen to him?”

  The old man relit his pipe, took a good puff, and said with a shrug, “his spirit has fled, wherever it is and whatever it is doing is beyond my ken, but his body will slowly waste away to nothing until it is no more than those bones I just swept aside. This cavern is full of such relics in various states of decay. Is this the future you intend for yourself then?”

  Bayard shivered, what did he intend for himself? What could be worth such a price? Had he anything to prevent him from finding out? Kyan had seemed drawn inexorably to his fate and Bayard was loath to admit, even to himself, that he felt an equally strong desire in the very depths of his soul, but had he the heart? Said he instead, “what is your role in all this?”

  The man smiled grimly, showing a mouth missing most of its teeth, and took another draw on his pipe, “I’m the groundskeeper as it were.” He glanced wryly down at the silent figure between them and said ironically, “or perhaps grave-keeper would be a better term. Come lad, make up yer mind, I haven’t got all day. I have a nice little stone bed right over here, if that be yer desire, otherwise you might take yerself out of my sight and trouble me no further. Well?”

  Bayard was still dithering when all conscious choice was taken from him. He felt a blade pierce his back and saw it emerge from his chest before he collapsed in an overwhelming flood of agony and blackness. He felt the draw of the standing stones now stronger than ever and knew it was now or never. With a sigh of relief or joy, he could not tell which, he consented to the Call and immediately felt his mortal shell fall away like soiled clothes and he stepped free, towards those mysterious stones that now glowed with a light too brilliant to look upon and live.

  The shriveled old man puffed in agitation on his pipe, as if it could somehow calm his racing heart, though his terror did not show on his face or in his voice. The boy, still clutching the bloody sword, that had come up unannounced and stabbed the indecisive lad in the back looked enough like the murdered lad that they must be blood kin of some sort, probably brothers. Why were such tragedies always about brothers? The grave-keeper only hoped it was something between themselves and not likely to involve his own precious self. “Well?” demanded Tyne, in a tone that said he was used to being obeyed without question or hesitation.

  The old man slowly blew out a ring of smoke and drawled in an even tone, “well what? This has naught to do with me, my lord. I just look after things hereabouts, if you have a personal matter to settle with anyone, that is your business and yours alone.”

  Tyne eyed the grave-keeper stonily and then studied his brother, who lay at his feet. Said he in some surprise as he saw Bayard draw a ragged breath, “he lives!”

  The old man withdrew his pipe from his mouth and studied the prone form with a frown, “and he’ll go on doing just that for some time yet, perhaps a year or more! The fool has finally decided.”

  Tyne stared at the old man, wondering about his sanity, snarled he, “what are you blathering ab
out? What has he decided? How can he survive at all with the wound I dealt him?”

  The grave-keeper shook his head, as if explaining something very simple for a fifth time to a rather dense pupil, “you’ve dealt him a lethal blow of a certainty, but that won’t matter now. Death can’t have him; he’s beyond it. Eventually his body will die, they always do, but the part that is him isn’t in residence any longer. I’m not sure if even cutting off his head would kill him at this point and I’d rather you didn’t try. I’ve enough of a mess to clean up as it is.”

  Tyne growled, “you make no sense man! And I will do as I please with the boy and his mortal remains.”

  The man shook his head and glanced warningly at the ceiling where something moved and fretted in agitation, “they ain’t my rules my lord, neither to break nor enforce. I merely do the tasks appointed me and no more, but it is unwise to challenge things one does not understand. I’d appreciate if you’d help me move him over to that bier over there.”

  Tyne was too angry and confused to make any protest and could only do as he was bidden, gazing futilely at the shadowed ceiling at whatever moved thereupon. The prone form neither flinched, moaned, blinked, nor moved as they shifted it into position, but lay silently breathing in a regular, slow, and ragged fashion. Bayard’s chest was a wreck, there was no possible way he could have survived this long but he went on breathing as if it were the most natural thing in the world. After studying his perplexing brother without any astonishing revelations, Tyne turned on the grave-keeper, “what is this? The Ritual demands blood and death! How is it to be satisfied if the coward won’t die?”

  The grave-keeper shook his head in confusion, “he’s as good as dead and you’ve certainly blood enough to satisfy a dozen rituals. Whatever you are up to, I think the price has been satisfied or as much as it ever will be with him.”

  Tyne suddenly glanced around the cavern and looked upon dozens of such biers, each with an occupant in varied states of decay from the rather fresh looking Kyan to dwindling piles of bone that had fallen almost entirely to dust. He smiled in spite of himself, what a perfectly ghastly collection, perhaps this was an even better fate for his despised brother than a quick and violent death. Said he grimly, “I seek to fulfill the Ritual that my reign might be as glorious and successful as that of my father. The hill gods demand blood as the price for their blessing and this have I spilled; that my despised brother will rot while he lives, forgotten under a cursed ruin makes it all the sweeter.”

  Tyne turned on his heel and marched triumphantly from the cavern; the grave-keeper shuddered to think such a heartless wretch would be the next king. Tyne marched home and proclaimed triumphantly to his father and all the court, “it is done!” There was much rejoicing and no little feasting in the following days as the King’s heir was now assured of a long and glorious reign.

  The Light drew him like a moth to the flame, as the loved to the beloved. Ever afterwards he could not quite say what happened, save that that all too glorious luminescence engulfed him, overwhelmed him, consumed him utterly yet he remained unalterably himself though purified, as through fire, all the imperfections, guilt, sin, and sorrow of which he was formerly possessed were burned away in the wonder of that Light until all he knew were awe, joy, peace, wonder, and a reverent fear. He awoke, or rather became aware of something other than the Light, on the hillside below the standing stones, not far from the entrance to the Cave of Dust, the burial chamber wherein lay the mortal remains of all who heeded this strange Calling. He glanced around blurrily at first, little heeding the mortal world after what he had just experienced, but gradually recognition dawned, though comprehension was longer in coming.

  He had no corporeal form, he felt fully himself and seemed to have minute control over his being, but it currently inhabited no form to give it substance or function in the mortal sphere. This would never do. He had work to do and could accomplish nothing in his current manifestation, or lack thereof. If one had eyes to see, one might have noticed something like moonlight wandering inexplicably abroad on the hillside in the middle of the afternoon. This errant light soon gathered little tendrils of mist about itself, another oddity in the midst of a sunny day, but even so that is exactly what appeared to be happening. And this did the astonished Bayard weave about himself as if he had been doing it all his life until he again had some guise with which to walk abroad under sun and star. He smiled wryly as he studied his handiwork, he would be fooling no one in such a guise, but then he also knew himself invisible to mortal eyes and then wondered why that thought perturbed him.

  “Not bad,” came a voice that jolted him out of his perusal and wondering thoughts. He smiled to see a creature like himself: a man wrought of mist and moonbeams, standing a few feet up the hill. He knew of a certainty that this other apparition was none other than Kyan, though how he knew he could not at the moment fathom. Grinned his companion, “I had feared you might have balked at the last, but it seems your courage did not fail you.”

  Bayard smiled sheepishly, “I did balk, dragging my feet to the bitter end when my only choice was the Call or death.” He frowned quizzically, “what exactly are we?”

  Kyan smiled, shook his head, shrugged, and glanced expectantly towards the crumbling ruin atop the hill. Bayard followed his gaze and watched in growing anticipation as a rather ordinary looking man descended towards them. The stranger stopped a few feet from them, studied them both with an amused smile, and then said in welcome, “well met lads. It has been a very long time since we have had new recruits, or at least since I had the privilege of helping them find their wings.” He turned his curious and piercing gaze upon Bayard, “and you lad, have a peculiar and pressing assignment almost from the first. Usually we are assigned missions as the need arises, but yours has been written before the stars were lit.”

  Bayard blinked in astonishment, “prophecy! Me?!”

  The man smiled, vastly amused, “you could have refused of course and then I don’t know where we’d be, but you didn’t so don’t go looking all flabbergasted. Someone needs to accomplish history, even if it is written in advance. Come, the Dragon will soon stir.”

  Bayard stared at Kyan in growing dread, “dragon?”

  The very ordinary looking man laughed but made no comment as he started walking, save, “come along lads, we have a prophecy to fulfill.” They exchanged another astonished look and hastened after the man who was just vanishing into the Cave of Dust. They entered the cavern and found it already occupied, though the mortal thespians seemed completely oblivious to their interruption of the little drama that was playing out between them. Though Bayard was desperately curious to watch his brother and the grave-keeper try and understand one another while they dealt with his mortal remains, he found his attention fully riveted upon a darker blotch among the shadows in a far corner. He felt a strange sensation of epicness rising within himself and knew that here indeed was his destiny. Here was the Dragon, or rather what was to become the Dragon, though for the moment it was a mere shade. He felt the creature’s gaze meet his own and its laughing derision as it recognized him even as he knew it; he knew it was not afraid.

  He turned his attention back to his companions and the mortal men in their ongoing discussion. Bayard shook his head, completely perplexed by both in their varied excuses and explanations. At last Tyne withdrew triumphant and the grave-keeper stalked out to return to his watching and his pipe. Said their hitherto silent companion, “I will go occupy the grave-keeper so he does not inadvertently disturb something he would rather not see. You two settle things with your friend in the corner there.” With that, he followed the grave-keeper out into the waning day and left the flummoxed neophytes to the wraith that was gradually drawing out of the shadows. It studied the pair with obvious derision but its eyes kept darting greedily back to the bleeding form lying inert on the stone bier.

  Bayard spoke without thinking, the words coming as if h
e knew exactly what he was talking about, “you are not allowed within the confines of this place Shadow.”

  The shade hissed a laugh, “little do you know! Something of mine is here and I will not leave without it.”

  Kyan shook his head, “what has been interred here cannot be removed unless it walks out of its own accord.”

  Snarled the wraith, “then I shall not remove it but shall utterly consume it within the confines of this cursed tomb!”

  Bayard shuddered, beginning to understand what this creature intended and that it was within its rights. Said he, grimly, “very well, shadow, do as you will with your own and then be gone!”

  The thing laughed him to scorn, but even as it drew closer to the ruined figure on the bier, it became each moment less a thing of darkness and more and more resembled a mortal man. By the time it stood at the insensible head of Bayard’s mortal frame, he appeared fully human, save for an eerie deadness in his eyes and an unnatural pallor in his skin. He gazed down at Tyne’s handiwork in anticipation and then turned ecstatic eyes upon Bayard, “little do you comprehend the boon you have provided me! Such evil has never been unleashed upon the mortal world as you will now permit.”

  Bayard frowned, “what are you talking about?”

  Laughed the fiend, “long have your forebears made bargains with lesser fiends, such as myself, that in exchange for the blood of their kin we grant them certain powers, protections, and influence thus ensuring a long and terrible reign. Your brother, at your father’s behest, swore to give your blood to me, which he has accomplished, but he has done far more than even he yet realizes. While your blood has given me the power to become something more than a mere shadow, I am still for all intents and purposes little more than a mortal man in strength and power, but in spilling your blood he did not kill you though you are as good as dead. Since your mortal coil still lives, due to circumstances none of us foresaw, I can draw further sustenance and power from it and become something truly dreadful while you can do nothing but watch and threaten! My victory shall be sweet indeed.”

  A shiver ran down Bayard’s spine but he knew the creature spoke truly, said he in disgust, “very well fiend, do what you have come for and then be gone. This place was not built to house such as you.” The villain laughed scornfully but turned his full attention to the still breathing corpse before him as the two watchers looked away in disgust. The thing fell upon the prone form hungrily and quickly devoured the shattered remains of the former prince, growing larger and more terrible with each awful mouthful. Bayard felt something irrevocably shift within himself, as if a door had forever slammed shut and at the same moment, he knew he could now become visible to mortal eye, had he a wish, and had far more control over his physical appearance.

  The monstrosity had grown huge indeed and looked far more reptilian now than human, it leered an evil smile flashing wicked fangs on a draconian head with glowing embers for eyes. He licked his gory lips and scorned, “well met wretch! I thank you for this feast you have so thoughtfully provided, indeed, I cannot thank you enough!” He turned his hungry gaze upon the form of Kyan lying undisturbed on its own bier.

  Bayard said coldly, “be gone fiend, you have had your due and now you shall go.”

  The Dragon snarled, “I think not! There is another tidbit here that will increase my power tenfold. Stand aside and I need not destroy you.” He glanced up at the Watchers with a mocking smile, knowing they chittered more in terror rather than in outrage at his disturbance of the dead in their keeping.

  Bayard stepped between the serpentine monster and the senseless form, “you have no right to this boy’s mortal shell!”

  The serpent laughed derisively and darted towards the prone form; Bayard leapt atop the Dragon, which coiled itself reflexively about the fool like a great snake intending to strangle its prey. Bayard felt something inside himself give way and he lost all conscious sense of anything but pure and blinding light, he was nothing but light and then there was nothing at all. Kyan watched in astonishment as the two tangled for a moment and then both were utterly consumed by a burst of astounding light. When it finally faded, he was alone in the chamber save for the now silent Watchers; his mortal remains slept on untouched and oblivious. He smiled like an overjoyed child and melted into moonlight and mist, leaving the tomb and its occupants to their eternal slumber.

  Garren stood listening intently to the grave-keeper, who leaned against the ruined wall, his pipe in one hand, as he told the strange tale of what had just come to pass in the crypt below. Said he in some awe, “never seen the like, have I! Neither did my father in his day nor my granddad in his. Awful strange, if you ask me, and I’m a man who has seen a strange occurrence or two, having the job I do.”

  Garren listened with half a mind as some innate sense he had no name for kept apace of what transpired in the Cave below. He felt the growing evil of the well-nourished Minion and then its forbidden intent to take that to which it had no right. He smiled grimly as he felt the creature consumed utterly by his Master’s light. His companion was just finishing his recital when Garren interrupted, “quite a tale my good man! But I must bid you good day.” He bowed formally to the gaping old man and then turned his steps towards the gate into the standing stones.

  The old man bawled in despair, “no, don’t! You fool, haven’t you heard what I have been saying?” But it was too late, Garren stepped across the threshold but instead of falling prone, he vanished entirely from mortal perception. The old man could only gape the more and scratch the back of his ear with his pipe stem in bewilderment.

  Garren ignored his outburst, smiling rashly as he did what he had done centuries before, but knowing he no longer had a mortal shell to doff upon entering the ringing stones he could do so with all the confidence of a man entering his own house. The stones glowed slightly with an inner radiance and the sand under his boots sparkled like so many diamonds with their own fire. He ignored the breathtaking scene and approached the center of the ring where mist and moonlight seemed to wander aimlessly about. He smiled in amusement, remembering his own early days of wonder and cluelessness about life beyond the mortal sphere. Said he with a laugh, “pull yourself together lad!”

  The ragged strands of mist and stray moonlight suddenly drew together and congealed themselves into a boyish looking creature once more. Garren shook his head with a smile and said, “come lad, you can do better than that. The bond holding you to the mortal world has been severed, you can now appear to mortal eye in mortal guise if you should wish it.” The wispy, luminescent creature suddenly became solid and the light vanished.

  Bayard glanced at himself in pleased surprise, “why could I not do that before?”

  Garren shook his head in amusement, remembering his own naive wonder, “you will eventually get the hang of this. While our mortal frames live, we are still bound, however tenuously, to the mortal world; we can in fact go back and live as mortals again, if that is our wish, though none ever has. It is impossible to imagine returning to mortal life after experiencing even the briefest taste of what lies beyond it, but the choice is there, at least while your mortal coil still draws breath. But we cannot take mortal form or appear to mortal eye while some part of us still lingers in the mortal sphere, but once that link is severed, we can no longer go back but we are also free of the restrictions that once bound us.”

  Bayard asked in growing eagerness, “who or what are we? What is our service? I understand none of this.”

  Garren laughed at his ill-contained curiosity, “we are called Messengers lad, men beyond mortality about our Master’s business in the mortal sphere. If ever you weary of this life, simply return to these stones and pass beyond the mortal world once and for all, but while you linger here, ever will you have some duty or other to accomplish in our Master’s service. Our main duty is opposing such lovely villains as you encountered in the Cave below, Minions they are called. They were once mortal men but ha
ve utterly sold themselves into evil and are strengthened by further acts of evil and the shedding of blood. So have your ancestors maintained their rule all these centuries when they should have been easily overthrown by their enemies or even their own people, but the blood rites they have performed through the ages have maintained their vile rule and allowed them to prevail by supernatural means against their mortal enemies. At least until now. Your brother thinks himself victorious, but the time has come at last for their rule of blood to be overthrown once and for all.”

  Bayard blinked in astonishment, “you want me to stage a coup to oust my own father?”

  Garren laughed, “nay lad, we cannot ourselves move against mortal men or kingdoms, but rather you can remove the supernatural protections that allow their empire of blood to thrive when it should have long ago collapsed in on itself. The fiend that glutted itself on your blood and body has long been foretold as the harbinger of the end of your family’s bloody rule. The Dragon will usher in the end of your father’s realm, rather than bringing an era of even greater evil and triumph as they think it must. It is your duty to return home and see that the creature does not succeed in what it intends.”

  The boy shook his head in astonishment, but smiled eagerly, “to think that the least of all my father’s sons will play a vital role in the crumbling of his own Kingdom; if he knew, I think he would almost be proud and acknowledge me at last as his true offspring.” He shuddered, “though I have never sought such approbation from such a source, and certainly do not act to bring down his Kingdom out of greed or spite, but rather because it is my appointed duty and the only way to destroy his evil once and for all.”

  Garren slapped him on the back, “you will know what you must, when you must lad. And remember, you are never alone!” Bayard blinked and the man was gone, fading suddenly into mist and moonshine. He smiled and melted away himself, leaving the old grave-keeper alone to puff perplexedly on his pipe.

  The moon was high and lit the thin fingers of mist that crept blindly through the little pinewood that grew upslope from the crumbling keep wherein all were making merry over what most civilized folk would call a tragedy wherein one brother had murdered another. As two men gathered themselves together out of the creeping mist, another manlike creature congealed itself out of the deeper shadows, but it had a certain serpentine cast about it that would make any mortal in its vicinity rather nervous but did not adversely affect the two strangers in the least, much to its annoyance. Snarled the snakelike Minion, “pests! Think you that you can do anything to thwart me? You are a mere nuisance!” With that, it slithered down the hill towards the keep and out of sight. Bayard exchanged a grin with Kyan as they too ghosted out of the wood and towards the castle. They paused on the edge of the copse and watched in amusement as their foe argued with the gate guards about whether he should be allowed into the keep.

  They knew he could easily slaughter the unwitting guards or vanish from their perception and sneak into the castle, but he needed an official position within if he were to accomplish his goals. The Messengers exchanged a vastly amused smile and continued on their way, easily bypassing the arguing Minion and guards. The former snarled at them as they passed, hating the ease with which they infiltrated the castle while he had to plead with these mere mortals like a woman haggling over the price of fish in the market! He tried to contain his wrath and continued to press his case with these clueless myrmidons whilst his enemies vanished into the depths of the keep.

  Kyan glanced about curiously, never having seen the seat of power from which the Kingdom was ruled with an iron fist; he was not impressed. His father was a great lord and a wealthy merchant in one of the prosperous cities of the plains; the least of his father’s colleagues had a palace far finer than this crumbling heap of rocks. Said he in surprise, “this is the King’s residence?”

  Bayard smiled sheepishly, “in all its ruinous splendor. By the reckoning of the mountain folk, if it was good enough for grandpappy eight times great then it is good enough for us and our offspring for the next thousand generations or more.”

  Kyan shook his head in wonder, “no wonder they need blood magic to maintain their rule! I’ll go scout about the place and find out what is going on, since no one will be able to see me I’ll make a great spy.” He smiled ruefully, “though that is about all I can do under the circumstances.” He melted away like mist in the moonlight as Bayard scanned the courtyard, wondering what he should be doing.

  His gaze settled on Firnan, the captain of his father’s guard, and suddenly he understood. The man, if man he was, gazed directly at the boy with a knowing smirk on his face though he was currently invisible to mortal sight. He motioned with his head for the boy to follow to a quiet corner of the stableyard where they might speak without drawing notice. The Minion continued to argue vehemently with the gate guards, which seemed to amuse the captain no end.

  Bayard followed after the man reluctantly, knowing he must but also remembering the hatred and disdain with which the man had treated him as a boy during the sword lessons his father had insisted upon for all his sons. They had come to a mutual, if unspoken, agreement that the man was ill-suited to teach such a lad and that the boy himself was rather an unpromising student of the warrior arts, and after three months of constant criticism, scorn, rantings, and embarrassment, the man had sent him back to his mother, promising to end the hated lessons and that he would never mention it to the King if the boy kept himself permanently out of the man’s sight. A promise which Bayard happily fulfilled. The man was cunning, but thoroughly reprehensible, doing whatever he liked with none daring to gainsay him; Bayard had often wondered why his father kept the man around, despite his skill with a blade. He almost thought his father was afraid of him, if it were possible for the King to fear anyone. At last he had his answer.

  They met in a corner of the stableyard with the stable on one side and the castle wall at their backs; the time of night and the ongoing merriment ensured that this forgotten corner was well and truly abandoned. Firnan openly studied the boy, to all appearances he was little changed from the lad who had run off into the pinewood two days ago with that foreign cleric. Bayard calmly endured his scrutiny as he never could have in his mortal days and returned the favor just as intently. He was still the same grim faced scoundrel with uncanny cunning burning in his eyes that Bayard remembered from his youth, but there was something more. His flesh had a waxy appearance for all of its apparent strength and toughness, and his eyes, though full of malice and quite shrewd, were also those of a corpse. He was no mortal creature, nor had he been the entire time Bayard had known him. He must be the fiend with which the King had struck his own bloody bargain in his own youth.

  His perusal at an end, the vile man smiled sardonically at the boy and said, “you do know lad, that your brothers and father are even now celebrating your death?”

  Bayard nodded, “I assumed as much.”

  “What are you doing here, boy?” asked the fiend in unveiled curiosity, unwittingly treating the boy with far more respect than he’d ever done in waking life.

  The boy was astonished to be addressed as an equal by the man who had once terrified him far more than his father, but he soon found his tongue and replied, “evil stirs and I am bidden to stop it.”

  The man laughed heartily, “you? The cringing little milksop who could barely hold a sword without breaking into tears?”

  Bayard said grimly, “things are far different now.”

  The man was nearly in tears at the thought, “ah, little milksop, what know you of anything? You wouldn’t even defend your own life! Your brother said you were on your knees, begging! I’ve never heard of such a coward and you think to stop what is to come?” He fell to his own knees, clutched his stomach, and shook with laughter.

  Bayard said quietly, “I never had a chance to beg, let alone defend myself. I was stabbed in the back ere ever I knew he was there. Who then is the
coward?”

  A few tears lingered in the man’s eyes but he had regained his feet and studied the lad anew. After a long silence he said quite soberly, “perhaps I should judge the matter for myself rather than rely on another’s account. What of the creature at the gates? Long have I been the only representative of my brotherhood in this place and loath am I to change that, but your brother has completed his own Ritual and his Fiend has come.”

  Bayard stared wide-eyed at this creature, his mortal enemy, yet he was speaking as he might to a respected colleague, or at least to man with a common enemy. Said the boy, “he is far more powerful than the usual wont of your kind for he has glutted himself not only with my blood but with my body as well.”

  The other hissed sharply with a sudden intake of breath, “what have you wrought?”

  Bayard snorted, “me? I certainly had no conscious choice in the matter. Do you think I intended to have my brother murder me and then allowed some undead fiend to feast upon my bones? This disaster lies at the feet of Tyne and your fell kind, whatever you are.”

  Firnan shook his head in disgust, “you do not understand, this could not have happened had you had the decency to lie down and die like the countless victims of the blood rite before you. But no, you had to go poking your nose where it did not belong, meddling in things no mortal has any business knowing!”

  Bayard shook his head and smiled wryly, “you are certainly one to talk!”

  The creature no longer had a sense of shame, but he did remember enough from his mortal days to at least shrug uncomfortably and change the subject, said he, “whether it was your intention or not, the thing is here and it will want to have its own way, which as I mentioned previously, is not a circumstance I am willing to endure. Together we must find a way to keep it in line.”

  Bayard stared at the creature, “you are proposing an alliance with me? A servant of your master’s sworn enemy, perhaps the person you most despise upon the whole face of the earth?”

  The fiend shrugged, “we have a common goal. I do not necessarily say that we should cooperate but we can at least forgo our own inevitable dispute until the creature is dealt with. We can have nothing in common save our mutual loathing of this encroaching villain. Once the creature is out of the way, then we can begin our own little feud. Why let our enemy win by default by destroying one another when we can rid ourselves of the creature and then determine the winner?”

  Bayard blinked, “you propose a ceasefire until the Dragon is no longer a problem? Are you not servants of the same master? In defying this creature are you not opposing your own master? You cannot think me such a fool as to trust a very servant of evil to keep his word!”

  Firnan laughed, “nay lad, I have never thought you a fool, perhaps that is one reason I treated you so wretchedly in your youth. I saw the promise in you, even if no one else could and I also knew the waste it would be, what with your mother’s corrupting influence and your heart as soft and malleable as her own. You could have been the greatest among your brothers, greater even than your father, yet you would not embrace your destiny but rather assumed yourself to be a weak, simpering fool, incapable of taking his rightful place among a people as wild and fell as a mountain winter.”

  Bayard shook his head adamantly and said quietly, “it is not weakness to deny evil and pride, nor to pursue that which is right and good and true, rather it takes a peculiar kind of strength, one that is foreign to the sensibilities of my uncouth and stubborn kinfolk. Who rejoices in the death of another, especially at the hand of his own brother? You cannot call so harsh and wild a people an objective judge of character!”

  Firnan laughed the more, “no lad, you do not lack for boldness or insight, that much is certain nor do I call your folk morally enlightened, but then look who you are talking to! I only say it is a pity that such gifts as you possess must be wasted rather than used in service to my master, or even for your own petty gain, but then you wouldn’t see it as a waste so we must agree to disagree. As to defying my own master, that is not my intention in the least. Unlike your wretched kind, who has no will or desire of their own but only that of your thrice cursed Master, my brethren often contend with one another for our dread lord’s favor. We are as likely to oppose one another as to cooperate, perhaps more so. We each of us look out only for ourselves and our own best interests, unless we have direct orders from a source we dare not refuse that is. You can trust me only so far as our deal directly benefits my own best interests, beyond that, good luck!” He laughed uproariously for a few moments and then said with an occasional chuckle, “but then, getting rid of this super fiend is certainly in my best interests, so for a little while at least you won’t have to fear me sticking a knife in your back.”

  Bayard nodded thoughtfully, “very well, I do not make any promises, forbidden as I am from swearing any sort of oath to anyone but my Master, but for now I will not treat you as my main adversary until our mutual foe is dealt with. I will, however, deal with you as I must if your goals or actions imperil my own duty.”

  The villain laughed, “now you sound like me! I will stay out of your way if you will stay out of mine, is this not the bargain we struck long ago when you proved so poor a student?”

  Bayard smiled wryly at the memory, “that it is fiend, that it is and we both abided by it for many a year. To think we would be working together, or at least not intentionally working against one another, for any reason! I will apprise my colleague of our understanding and I would appreciate if you would do the same.”

  Firnan stared at the boy in surprise, “how did you know? Your youngest brother is coming along nicely and may make his vows to the darkness any day now. Should he join my brotherhood, I shall apprise him of our understanding.”

  Bayard smiled grimly, “I am not as blind and foolish as all my kin think me to be, even in my grief and isolation, I knew something was dreadfully amiss among my brothers but only of late have my eyes been opened to the full, despicable situation. Why would you cede your power to Tyne and his Minion when you could raise up one of your own from amongst his brothers? But this Dragon is but the beginning, I am charged with ending the influence of all such over my kith and kin. The kingdom must be allowed to stand or fall as it will, not supernaturally maintained by blood and evil. We may, for a time, ignore one another, but soon we shall be enemies in deed as well as in truth.”

  Firnan actually bowed formally to his young nemesis, “well spoken lad, it seems I have a foe worthy of my attention, at least in due time. Now what of this Dragon?”

  The boy shook his head, “I know little enough of the matter, save it is one long foretold and I am the one who must oppose it.”

  Firnan scratched his chin thoughtfully, “I will have seniority but he has the power, I doubt he will long bow to my influence. He will urge his charge to come into his own, that is dethrone the King, and then my own place will be gone and he will be unchallenged. I will manage the King, you must take charge of the fiend, for there is little enough I can do against such as he.”

  Bayard said stonily, “it will be as it must.”

  Suddenly there was a brightly glowing apparition standing betwixt them and Firnan snarled, “snuff that light, fool!”

  Kyan dimmed to near invisibility and alternated between a sheepish but anxious look at Bayard and staring grimly at the fiend. Said, said fiend with an ironic smile, “this must be your esteemed colleague.” He laughed harshly, “easy boy, we are not overt enemies at the moment, though hopefully that day will not be long in coming, for we have a far more dreadful foe with whom we must deal first. Gadding about with all the subtlety of a shooting star while there is such a fiend about is far from wise.”

  The boy gaped between the Minion and his fellow Messenger, eager to tell all he had heard, yet uneasy in the presence of this sworn enemy. Bayard ended his disquiet by saying, “if there is something you have learned from the folk in their merriment, it can be nothing
not known to our esteemed foe here, captain of the guard as he is. What has you so ill at ease?”

  Kyan brightened considerably but he still seemed reluctant or uneasy in his spirit, said he quietly, “my sister is coming! She left home on her nuptial journey just a day before I betook myself into the hills, though I did not know exactly where she was going. I did not know my father had betrothed her to the crown prince! I knew it was someone important, but he was so far away and such things mattered so little to me, the least of his many children, that I never bothered to learn the full tale.” He glanced at his feet and Bayard knew there was something more he was reluctant to tell. He looked up and gazed uneasily at their companion, who laughed derisively and took his leave, knowing full well that the boy would never speak in his presence. Once the villain was gone, Kyan glanced around nervously and continued, “I need to go back.”

  Bayard frowned, “go where? I thought your duty lay here?”

  The boy grinned nervously, “it does, and yet I must return to the Cave.”

  Bayard gaped, “the Cave? Of what use can that be to our mission?”

  Kyan studied his feet, unsure how to answer, “I will join my sister’s company...as a mortal man.”

  Bayard’s jaw dropped, “you would forsake the Messengers in the middle of so great a quest?”

  Kyan shook his head adamantly, his eyes pleading for understanding, “not at all, I am not abandoning my Call, but rather this is the path laid before me.”

  Bayard smiled wanly in understanding, “a strange development indeed but I think I begin to understand the need for it. Can I do aught to assist you?”

  Kyan smiled in relief and thanks, “I will need a horse, and perhaps someone to ward me while I attempt the unthinkable.” Bayard nodded in grim amusement, assumed the guise of a castle servant, and hastened into the stable where he set about saddling a sturdy though unremarkable gelding. Kyan followed him into the stall and asked, “can we just ride him out of here bold as can be? That fiend is still at the gate arguing for admittance.”

  Bayard laughed, “we can take the horse with us in our usual manner of coming and going with none the wiser. The disguise is simply for the sake of anyone who might stumble upon us in the interim.” The boy nodded and Bayard finished his preparations, took up the reins, and then all three melted into nothingness, the horse’s cry cut short before he could do aught but whicker nervously.

  In the courtyard, Firnan finally approached the beleaguered guards and told them to admit his fellow, which they did in grateful resignation. The creature snarled silently at them in passing but quickly turned his viperish eyes upon his fellow Minion, whom he studied with stony intensity. “Come,” hissed Firnan, “we must speak.”

  The horse finished his terrified scream as they materialized out of the mist at the mouth of the Cave. The grave-keeper heard the unearthly cry and huddled deeper into his ragged blankets, praying to whatever gods there be to protect him from the terrors that walked the night. Bayard stood with the horse, nodded solemnly to his companion, who smiled rakishly and dashed into the Cave of Dust. The boy felt unseen eyes upon him and knew this place was warded against any who might disturb the solemn rest of those interred here for all time. He smiled in spite of himself, feeling as he had once, ages ago, when he snuck into the kitchen unbidden in search of some forbidden snack. But he was no naughty little boy on mischief bent, but rather a very servant of the True King upon an errand of utmost necessity. The silent Watchers let him pass unhindered, though certainly not unheeded, and he approached the all too familiar bier where his mortal shell eerily lay in silent repose. He took a deep breath, though he did not respire in his current state, and laid a slightly glowing, wispy hand upon what had once been his own forehead. He shut his eyes, concentrated, and gradually grew more and more transparent, until he vanished altogether.

  The hitherto still and silent form groaned and laid a hand to his head, this time an appendage of flesh and bone. He sat up and studied his once familiar hands, feeling as if an age had passed in the short time since his interment in the Cave. With another groan, his body was not appreciative of being cast aside like a forgotten toy and then taken suddenly back into active use, he swung his legs off the bier and placed his feet on the ground, though he spent several moments gasping in pain and trying to steady his swimming vision before putting weight on his feet. Finally, like a newborn colt unsteady on its legs, he shakily made his way to the door. The unseen Watchers were suddenly uneasy and that knowledge struck the boy like a physical blow, something lurked just outside, something with an evil intent. Trembling more in exhaustion than fear, Kyan leaned against the stony wall, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever it was that awaited him without. He could walk out under his own power, but whatever was waiting outside was apparently forbidden from entering. He cried out to Bayard, hoping the Messenger had not already been overcome by whatever it was that lingered out there.

  There came a flash of light and a deepening of shadow, he heard the clang of crossing swords, and then came a muffled oath, a moment of darkness, and the acrid smell of smoke. The uneasy feeling lifted and the boy felt safe in approaching the door. Bayard stood without, with one hand clutching the skittish horse by the reins and a radiant sword in the other. He smiled when he saw the tentative Kyan emerge, said he, “just our friendly captain, hoping to somehow avail himself of your tenuous position in a manner similar to that from which the Dragon benefitted so profusely.” His tone became grim, “but he had no claim on you nor did our Master see fit to grant his desire.” He smiled ruefully, “I barely managed to keep a hold on your horse in the meantime.”

  Kyan emerged fully into the moonlight and immediately sat down, breathing heavily, “I have already forgotten what a strain even the simplest movements are on a mortal frame!” He blinked, “should I be able to see you?”

  Bayard smiled, his sword vanished, and he resumed an unremarkable mortal guise, “no, but then, you are not exactly a mortal man any longer no matter that you are currently clad in flesh and bone.”

  Kyan glanced wistfully back at the Cave, “in removing myself thus from the Cave, I will no longer be interred with our brothers.”

  Bayard snorted a laugh, “little enough that matters to our dear grave-keeper. He would merely sweep your crumbling bones aside in a century or two when he had need of your bier. It is not as if my own corpse molders away unmourned therein either. I think this place is so well warded to protect the world from incidents like that involving the Dragon rather than for the honor due our mortal shells.”

  Kyan smiled grimly and nodded, “you have the right of it of course, it just seems a little grotesque to raid my own tomb and see to my own disinterment.” He laughed, “but whatever the Master’s orders, gladly will I see them through, no matter how strange they might seem at the outset.” He rose slowly to his feet, grimacing as he did so, but then he walked boldly over to the horse and flung himself into the saddle, with only a minimal amount of groaning in process. Bayard handed him the reins and slapped the horse on the rump, to which the gelding gave an indignant snort but readily carried himself and his rider well away from the strange happenings of the night: horses in general being philosophically opposed to anything out of the ordinary. Bayard smiled after his retreating friend and then melted into the night.

  The two fiends withdrew to the same quiet corner of the stableyard the elder had so recently vacated, said he, “your charge makes merry within and will be disinclined to see anyone this night. I would advise you to await him in his chambers and there confront him about what is to come.”

  The other smiled spitefully, “you do not like me, an excellent beginning! You know I am the stronger, by far. I will destroy you, if you cross me little fool, so do not even think it. I can make use of you or you can destroy yourself, the choice is yours but I shall prove the victor.” Firnan made no reply but the other could read the desperation and hatred in his eyes and thi
s was answer enough; he laughed scornfully as he went in search of the prince’s chambers. Firnan shuddered and knew he must do something desperate if he was to be an even match for this awful creature. A grim smile crept over his face, those Messengers were up to something, perhaps he could use it to his advantage? He melted into the night.

  Kyan clung to the saddle, letting the horse have his head, knowing somehow the beast was going in roughly the right direction. The moon had long ago vanished behind the distant hills, yet Kyan could see as well as he ever had on a sunny morning, though swathed in mortality, it seemed he retained many of his uncanny abilities. He smiled amusedly, it was not as if he had freely chosen to again wear flesh. He sobered, knowing it would not be long and soon that choice would be forever taken from him. After, he remembered little, for he must have fallen into a dead sleep though how he miraculously managed to stay in his saddle he could not begin to imagine.

  It was the horse suddenly stopping and giving a welcoming whinny that wakened the boy with the sun on the rise. He blinked blearily for a moment and then jolted awake, for in the valley below lay an encampment that was preparing for imminent departure. Before the banners were stowed away for the day’s march, he caught a brief glimpse of his father’s crest. His heart gave an inadvertent lurch and he urged the horse down the hill at a trot. The sudden movement drew the eyes of several of the armsmen in the company and they drew their swords and prepared to meet the approaching stranger. Kyan glanced down at himself and smiled ruefully, wondering what his father’s soldiers would think of the worn and ragged figure that was their master’s youngest son. He drew rein a polite distance from the encampment to await the coming guards.

  They approached with weapons at the ready and stern looks of distrust and disapproval on their faces as they studied the scandalous looking character who dared approach the encampment of their master’s most esteemed lady daughter. They studied him intently but no recognition dawned and their captain at last demanded, “speak rogue! How dare you threaten our lady thus!”

  Kyan smiled in spite of himself and said, “easy captain, I mean you and yours no harm nor your lady the least dishonor. In truth, I am her own brother come with tidings grim indeed.”

  Several of the armsmen flinched at his boldness but the captain merely frowned in consternation as he studied the boy more closely, under the filth and rumpled garments, at last did he recognize the least of his master’s sons. Said he in uneasy tones, “her ladyship will decide whether she will hear your news or not, until then I would advise that you betake yourself to the beck and avail yourself of fresh clothes.” The boy nodded his assent and the guardsmen hastened to make themselves useful that the lad might finish his ablutions ere the party was ready to set forth.

  In due course the lad was presented before her ladyship, his sister, in a far cleaner state than his previous condition but clad in clothes befitting a simple man-at-arms, for there were no garments within the company befitting his status for only her ladyship was of noble descent. She was just mounting her palfrey when word came to her of Kyan’s presence and she ordered him immediately presented before her, intending to speak together as they traveled thus to save time. Once he had made the proper courtesies, he too mounted and rode close to his sister that they might converse together.

  Said she in some surprise, “whatever are you doing here? I thought father had intended to apprentice you to a merchant oversea somewhere?”

  The boy grinned sheepishly, “he did, but I was not thus inclined. I took to the hills not long after your departure and there found adventure far more strange and wondrous than I had anticipated. I have come now from the castle of your betrothed and bear grim tidings.”

  She looked upon him gravely, “has some disaster befallen my intended or his father’s holdings?”

  Kyan shook his head and said sadly, “nay lady, it is far worse. The man is a murderer and of his own brother no less. I would advise you to turn aside at this moment and return to the house of our father.”

  She gasped, “but this would break the treaty and might spell certain doom for our house! However am I to be Queen if I turn aside now? If the man has murdered his own kith and kin, then surely another shall ascend the throne and perhaps to him I might be ceded as wife even as my own intended hangs for his grievous offense.”

  Kyan shook his head, “nay lady, it will not be so, for I looked on as all the vile lad’s folk toasted his fell deed and wished him a long and triumphant reign. His own father the King condoned the murder as necessary to the Kingdom’s continuing survival.”

  She blanched, “but how can this be? Surely the murdered youth must then be a miscreant of the vilest sort?”

  Kyan shook his head sadly, “nay lady, he was no villain and deserving of no such fate.”

  “It is but hearsay then!” urged she, “it cannot be thus!”

  He shook his head, remembering the ruined form of his friend as it lay unmoving on its stony bed before the fiend fell upon it, “it is the very truth lady, I saw it with my own eyes.”

  She shook her head adamantly, “nay, nay, something is amiss! There is something we are overlooking or do not know, some circumstance that will justify everything. Speak no more of this to me, I will ask it of my intended the moment I arrive and he will give a full account of himself.” She smiled in a hopeful, self-satisfied manner, “I shall be Queen.” She urged her horse forward and Kyan knew himself dismissed; his heart breaking for the thoughtless unconcern of his sister and the havoc it would no doubt wreak not only in her own life but in those of countless others as well. Her ladies drew up around her in a protective bevy as he withdrew, leaving only the guardsmen to keep him company, but they were ill at ease in his presence, not used to fraternizing with their master’s family in any manner so he held himself apart even from them, lost in his own thoughts.

  They came within sight of the crumbling castle that evening and a rider was sent ahead to announce their imminent arrival. He returned in good time with word that they should make for the keep and would be feted and much welcomed once the lady had had time to refresh herself from the rigors of travel. She was quite pleased by this and ordered the party to comply, giving her brother a meaningful glance as her gaze met his. He shook his head sadly but she saw the resignation in his eyes and was content. She urged her mount forward at a ground eating pace and the others eagerly followed, hoping to reach the castle before the light failed.

  They clattered into the courtyard and servants hurried to take reins and hand down the ladies who then whisked their mistress into the castle that she might make herself ready for the evening’s festivities. Firnan watched their arrival with interest and gave Kyan a predatory smile when their eyes met, causing a shudder to run coldly down the lad’s spine. Kyan was encouraged to see Bayard again, who seemed to be posing as one of the innumerable servants who kept such an establishment functioning. He glimpsed another shadowy figure as it vanished behind a stack of barrels and knew the Dragon was now officially ensconced within the castle as well. It would be an interesting evening, to be sure.

  Bayard approached Kyan with a feigned look of perplexity, bowed to an appropriate degree, and asked, “might I be of assistance, my lord?” This last was said with a heavy question, as if he was unsure what to make of this man in a guard’s uniform who held himself aloof from the rest.

  Kyan gave his companion a wry smile, but said grandly, “that you may my good man, will you see that I am provided with rooms and apparel befitting the lady’s brother? There seems to have been a minor upset in my plans and I am bereft of all my luggage and worldly possessions.”

  Bayard tried desperately to hide his amusement and said soberly enough for even the most grim-faced steward, “certainly my lord. Will you please follow me?”

  They entered the castle proper and Bayard found an upper servant, who would never deign to mingle with the common rabble in the courtyard, and explained his lordship’s gr
ievous plight. The man nodded gravely and condoled with his lordship over the dreadful state of his current affairs and assured him that his every desire and whim would soon be far exceeded. As Kyan was led away by the still grimly encouraging figure, he flashed an amused smile over his shoulder at his companion before he vanished around a corner and was lost to sight.

  “What are you up to?” asked the captain of the retreating servant.

  Bayard stopped suddenly to confront the captain, “up to?”

  Firnan chuckled darkly, “you are fooling no one. We both know who and what the girl’s brother is.”

  Bayard shrugged, “it was not meant to be a secret. Our Master has His reasons and this is at His behest, I know nothing more of the matter; time must reveal what it will. But it would be best for everyone if the lady hastened away from this place, most especially for herself.”

  Firnan smiled grudgingly, “the plot thickens, this shall be an interesting tale to watch unfold. I must say, I never expected to be bested by the likes of you. Where did you learn to use a sword? It certainly wasn’t anything I taught you!”

  Bayard grinned, “I have no idea, it was certainly not a skill I possessed three days prior. But my Master provides what is needed when it is required.” He bowed as a servant might and vanished about his presumed duties, leaving the captain scowling at his retreating back.

  He hastened after Kyan and the doleful servant, having just thought of something most dire. Feigning breathlessness, he caught the attention of the pair who then turned to stare at him in astonishment, said he panting, “his lordship is utterly bereft of everything, even his valet!”

  The other servant paled and turned horrified eyes upon Kyan, “oh, my lord! Can it indeed be true? You are not only without your luggage but have no man as well? What is the world coming to? And there are none fit to spare, I’d volunteer myself you understand, but my foreign ways would certainly annoy your lordship.” He squinted at Bayard, “you boy, I’ve never laid eyes on you before. You must be rather new and therefore expendable...I mean you have not yet learned any bad habits. Why don’t you attend his lordship as he desires until a proper man can be found?” Without waiting for agreement from either his lordship or Bayard, he continued on his way, quite pleased with himself. The Messengers exchanged a vastly amused grin behind his back and followed after in a most stately manner. The servant ushered them into Bayard’s former quarters, which surprised the boy no end, but he hid it well as the prim servant said, “you will find clothes appropriate to his lordship’s station tucked away in the trunk by the bed. If there is nothing else?” He bowed himself out and did not await an answer, prompting another exchange of mirthful expressions.

  Bayard glanced around wistfully at the once familiar rooms and wondered if it were a slight to himself or to his ‘lordship’ that Kyan was quartered thus. A minor lord’s son from an outlying district, even the brother to the crown prince’s betrothed, could not rank high enough to take over the rooms of a late prince, unless of course the prince was held in disfavor and his rooms were likewise inglorious. He laughed in spite of himself, “these were my old quarters, which tells you something of how much favor they held me in and likely how much import you have yourself.”

  Kyan nodded thoughtfully and was pawing through the trunk, looking for something to wear, “and I suppose these are your clothes as well?” He pulled out a tunic and smiled, “I hope this isn’t your best shirt?”

  Bayard smiled, “one of them, why?”

  Kyan shook his head, “I had cast offs far finer than this! No wonder these barbarians can toast your demise! This place is far from civilized!”

  Bayard approached and rummaged through the trunk until he found what had been his finest clothes and held them up for Kyan to examine. He snorted, “I suppose it is better than a soldier’s uniform, but even my father’s upper servants are garbed in finer apparel!” He laughed outright, “I wonder what your folk will think when I come to the banquet garbed in their despised prince’s formal best?”

  Bayard shook his head, “it was not as if I was encouraged to attend state functions or what few formal festivities my father hosted. To their minds, my mother and I did not even exist, save as an embarrassment to be kept out of sight and not mentioned. I doubt they will know it was mine unless that servant starts gossiping, which knowing the servants, is guaranteed.” He grimaced, “it will be an interesting meal then.”

  Kyan shook his head, but washed up in the water Bayard brought and then donned the meager formal best. Thankfully it fit well enough, though the material was far coarser than that to which he was accustomed and the mountain fashions were not exactly flattering to anyone, but they had not changed, like everything else in this place, since the castle foundations were laid. Kyan sighed, “at least I don’t look like a man-at-arms any longer.”

  Bayard laughed, “you mortals are so finicky about your appearance!”

  Kyan gave him a patient look but a slight twitching at the corner of his lips betrayed his smile and ruined the effect. Said he with a grin, “I will just need to find myself a valet who is not so glib with his tongue.”

  Bayard bowed stoically and said in a lugubrious tone, “forgive me sir, I forget my place. You southern lords are assumed to be quite free with your servants and I thought perhaps you would prefer it to be so with me. I will trouble you no further in that respect, if that is your wish?”

  Kyan groaned, “I had rather have that other odious fellow attend me if this is the best sobriety you can muster.”

  Bayard flashed him a rascally smile, “I will fetch him at once my lord.”

  Kyan shook his head and sighed with only a slight roll of his eyes, but changed the subject, “had we not best go down to supper?”

  Bayard said quite respectfully, “I only await your pleasure, my lord.”

  Kyan shook his head again and led the way from the room, though Bayard needed to offer quiet directions as they descended to the banqueting hall. They found the place buzzing with activity as the harried servants hastened to set the place in order and find food and refreshment for the ever growing crowd of guests. Kyan did his best to look bored and snobbish while Bayard followed him like a stuffy shadow. Kyan spent most of the ensuing hour exchanging insipid blatherings with whomever was close to hand until his sister made her grand appearance. Silence descended on the gathered crowd as she was announced and then introduced to her betrothed, who kissed her hand and gave her a possessive smile. She gave him the appropriate courtesy and then they approached the King, performed the appropriate civilities, and then entered the crowded hall to greet their guests, after which all were soon seated. Kyan was surprised to find himself seated next to his sister with her lord on her far side, but not to discover that his borrowed finery was nowhere near as elegant as that worn by the least of the hall’s many guests. Bayard must have been a great distress to his royal father indeed to be so ill-clad when his royal brothers were all well, if antiquatedly dressed.

  Once the meal had begun in earnest, Tyne at last turned his attention to his future brother-in-law, finding great amusement in the fact that he was clad in his cowardly brother’s castoffs. Said he with a snide grin, “how are you enjoying our hospitality then?”

  Kyan shrugged, smiled, and said something noncommittal before beginning an in-depth study of his potatoes. Tyne laughed darkly and turned to his lady, asking after her brother. She replied just as blandly and then, remembering her promise, asked after the fate of his own. He neither flinched in chagrin nor seemed surprised at her inquiry but said rather soberly, “it is well to have the matter out in the open ere the rumors grow too dark for a maid of your station to heed them in good taste. It was a regrettable affair, one never likes the inevitable outcome of such a matter, but things are as they must be. The boy was a worker of the black arts; he murdered his own mother to increase his power. The hill gods cried out in horror, demanding his blood lest their vengean
ce destroy the kingdom. So it was that I was forced to kill my own brother, but it was far better that than the alternative and he brought about his own deserved end through his many vile acts. Mine was but the hand of justice.”

  The lady’s look of overt horror faded with a sigh of relief and was soon replaced by something that Kyan thought looked dreadfully like hungry adoration. Said she in a breathless whisper, “what a splendid tale Majesty, I mean...you handled the situation quite splendidly, it was a horrid position in which to find oneself. I am quite impressed.” She fanned her suddenly reddening countenance and looked away, abashed.

  Tyne smugly drank in the lady’s undue adulation. Bayard, standing behind Kyan’s chair, looked rather shocked at this portrayal of himself, while Kyan was doing his best to stifle an aggrieved outburst at this perversion of the truth, his meat was getting rather a harsher treatment than it deserved. At last, the lady had regained her composure and again faced this savior of the nation, “what a story Highness and quite true, I am certain, though I had heard it rumored otherwise. By my own brother in fact, he claimed to have seen the aftermath! But his own tale is nothing like your own. I do not know what he was thinking or thought he saw to fabricate such a myth.”

  Tyne’s hawk-like gaze pierced the unfortunate brother, “you say you were there then? What did you see? How is it you came to be in that place and why did I not see you?”

  Kyan dropped his gaze, intently chasing his peas round his plate, as he said quietly, “I was roaming the hills quite upon my own business and happened into that place. I did not see what actually occurred.” He raised his eyes and looked sharply at the other, “but I did see the result and met your brother briefly in my wanderings and know he is not what you imply.”

  Tyne smiled wanly at the insolent creature, as one might at a cat one has decided must be got rid of in secret lest the owner take it amiss, said he with a dismissive tone, “little know you of anything, sir. I would advise caution lest worse comes of it.” He returned to his meal and to entertaining his lady and said no more to the impudent boy, but he did exchange a meaningful look with the Dragon. The creature nodded once, smiled villainously, and withdrew into the shadows. The captain of the guard was also watching, saw the exchange, and left to make his own arrangements. The rest of the merrymakers continued on unawares.

  Kyan continued his meal in silence; his sister occasionally gave him a reproving glance but otherwise ignored him. Bayard leant forward to refill his ‘master’s’ glass and whispered quietly, “both of our dear Minions are up to something. This night will not lack for excitement. Hopefully each becomes entangled in the other’s web!” Kyan gave him an eager smile and then both returned to their assumed roles.

  There was to be dancing after the meal, but Kyan felt quite disinclined for such festivities and made his farewells to his host and sister, the latter nodding in approval, “I think it wise that you retire early, and would highly advise that you leave as early on the morrow as can be arranged.”

  Kyan bowed his head, “aye madam, after this night I shall not trouble you again.” She nodded in dismissal and he withdrew from her presence, keenly aware of Tyne’s hostile gaze upon him. He was a mouse that must be removed and somewhere the master’s cat lurked in anticipation. Bayard waited patiently by the door and fell into step behind Kyan as he left the grand chamber, but held silent until they were well away from prying ears or suspicious eyes. At last they entered the darkened halls adjoining the sleeping chambers and felt themselves alone, but before the silence could be broken, a familiar voice spoke.

  Firnan and two of his guardsmen stepped out of the shadows, he wore a mocking grin as he said, “now my lord, will you come quietly? There is someone who urgently wishes to speak with you. I also know that there is one other lurking about who intends murder this night. So you see, it is for your own protection.”

  Bayard eyed him icily, but knew if he went for his sword the creature or the soldiers would make trouble, so he held himself silently at the ready. Unintimidated, Kyan asked, “who wishes for an interview and why must you bring your minions to insist upon it?”

  The captain smiled grimly, “if you will not come willingly, I might need their assistance. As to the who, that you must discover when we get there. Will you come quietly or must I insist?”

  The two Messengers exchanged a glance before Kyan sighed in resignation, “very well captain, have it your way, but my servant will attend me.”

  Firnan smiled condescendingly, “I assumed as much. Come along.” He turned his gaze upon Bayard, “watch for our mutual acquaintance.” And then they trooped off into the darkest reaches of the castle.

  It wasn’t the dungeon, but it was a dark, dank, crumbling suite of rooms in a long neglected wing of the fortress. Firnan ordered his men to stand watch at the door and to admit no one. Once they were alone, someone lit a candle, a nicety which none of the three required, each being quite able to see in the deepest dark, but the man in question had sat too long, alone in the dark with his unsettling thoughts, and it was a solace he sorely needed. Bayard flinched in horror when he recognized his youngest brother, who was still very much a boy. He had known Firnan was up to something with the youth, but to see him here in the dark with a knife clutched in his fist was another matter entirely. “No!” said Bayard pleadingly, “Justin, don’t!”

  The boy stared at the insolent servant and then skewered Firnan with an irritated glare, “what is he doing here?”

  Firnan turned highly amused eyes upon Bayard, “you cannot stop him, this is mortal business. Will you reveal yourself to him in hopes it will touch his heart and avert disaster?”

  Bayard sighed heavily and drew back into the shadows, “it is not my place to interfere. He must do as he thinks best. There was little love lost between us, it will avail nothing for him to know and may perhaps make him more eager.”

  Justin stared at Firnan in outrage but as the impudent man retreated, he snarled, “can we get on with this? I don’t want that eerie companion of my brother’s to happen upon us while I am still powerless!”

  Kyan said grimly, “what you intend will not give you what you seek. You will be even more helpless and at the mercy of such fiends.”

  “Silence!” snarled Justin, handling the dagger, “let us begin!”

  Kyan found himself helpless before the murderous youth, for Firnan was far stronger than his mortal flesh and easily maneuvered him into position while Bayard was forced to stand aside and watch, forbidden as he was from interfering in mortal affairs. The boy slashed his own palm and then that of his intended victim. He then clutched the Messenger’s bloodied hand to his own while Firnan muttered something in a fell tongue. The boy screamed and Kyan felt himself growing insubstantial. The boy’s physical shape began to lose all definition, shape, and recognizable features as his entire being darkened into an amorphous shadow while Kyan grew ever more transparent until his mortal shell vanished entirely, leaving only the misty, luminescent visage of the Messenger. He felt a final shifting within himself as his mortal coil vanished utterly, and knew he could now wear a mortal guise should he wish it. Immediately he resolved himself into a form very similar to that which had just vanished, even as Bayard drew out of the shadows, his own identity no longer hidden.

  Firnan grinned triumphantly at the Messengers and the shade alike. The former wore looks of grief while the latter trembled in terror and outrage, “what have you done to me! Where is the power you promised! I am nothing but a shadow, not even a man! What is my wretched brother doing here?”

  Firnan continued to smirk, answering with great satisfaction, “the power might come, if you can find a mortal willing to make certain sacrifices on your behalf, until then you are nothing but a stain upon reality, powerless save to whisper and suggest into vulnerable mortal ears.” He licked his lips eagerly, “you are also quite vulnerable to those of us of our order that currently outrank you.” He shrugg
ed, “as to your brother? His Master will send him to meddle whither he will, who am I to stop him? Little enough good he did you.” He began to laugh uproariously.

  Once the senior wraith had quieted his mirth, Bayard asked, “what exactly do you get out of this?”

  Firnan shrugged, “who knows? Perhaps nothing but the satisfaction of bringing another soul under the sway of eternal night, but perhaps I can also use the wretched creature for my own advantage. We shall see.”

  Hissed the forsaken shadow, “I will not be used!”

  Firnan chuckled as if this statement were utterly ridiculous, which it was, but a loud banging upon the chamber door suddenly silenced his mirth. It burst asunder to admit the last creature any of them wished to see. Bayard caught a brief glimpse of the guards on either side of the door, lying as men dead in their terror, before the Dragon slammed the door. He glared at each of them in turn, dismissing the Messengers with a contemptuous sniff, glowering at Firnan, and studying the new made wraith with a hungry intensity. “Well isn’t this a happy little conspiracy.” He skewered Firnan with a glare, “what were you hoping to gain by it?”

  The captain could not hide his mirth, “can I not utterly doom a soul for my own amusement, and at the same time deprive you of your rightful prey?”

  The creature turned a furious gaze on Kyan, who bore his scrutiny with amused indifference. The beast frowned, seeing nothing significantly different about his quarry, but wondering if the captain was toying with him, he took the startled Kyan by the throat and would have strangled him, had he been a mortal man, but merely made the Messenger’s otherwise solid looking form blur a bit around the edges and produced a brief flicker of light in his eyes. He flung Kyan to the floor, smiling darkly, “the deed is done then, who cares by whom or how? These ghosts are of no importance to me; they are as futile as your pet shadow there.” His laugh broadened into a gloating chuckle and he addressed the shade, “want to be infinitely more wretch? Would you be free of this monster’s clutches and away from your meddling brother?”

  The shadow trembled in eagerness and fear, “can such a thing be?”

  Firnan shook his head grimly and the Messengers wore looks of grief and horror, but dared not voice their consternation, knowing it would only make the shade more desperate. The Dragon hissed eagerly, “come lad, join with me. Add your power to my own and let us both benefit thereby.”

  Said the miserable wraith, “it cannot be worse than this meager existence, very well.”

  The creature held out his hand and the wraith held out its own blob-like appendage. When the two touched, the greater immediately absorbed the lesser and the wretched creature vanished from all mortal knowledge. Firnan shrugged and the Messengers felt rather nauseous. The beast chortled, “and so will it be with each of you in your turn!” He then melted away into a shadowy puddle and oozed from the room.

  Firnan looked at his two remaining companions and said, “this has been such a delightful evening! Now what will you two meddlers be doing, now that you have no official position within the castle? Why don’t you just fade away like the dawn mist and do us all a favor?”

  Bayard shook his head, “we have our assignment and will not leave until it is accomplished, especially now that both of us are free of all constraints that would otherwise hinder or encumber us.”

  Firnan chuckled royally, “free of all restraints indeed! That is for me and mine, your Master binds you severely and you can do naught but His will. I suppose I inadvertently did the boy a favor in freeing him of his mortal shell, a pity that, I hate being a boon to anyone. How are we to rid ourselves of the beast then?”

  Kyan shook his head, “the creature cannot be destroyed by any means we possess; he can be defeated but will always return.”

  Firnan nodded in irritation, “and I can only absorb him if he willingly gives himself into my clutches, which is as likely as the pair of you taking up with the palace guard.” He was silent for a moment and then a thoughtful grimace covered his face, “to be rid of the monster we must be rid of his charge. If the prince can be disposed of or disabled, the creature will again shrink to nothing but a helpless shadow.” He stared at the pair thoughtfully, “you are utterly useless in that regard, I shall have to do it myself.”

  Bayard shook his head, “we cannot stand aside and let you murder someone, even if he is the root of all our problems at the moment.”

  The captain snarled in frustration, “what then are we to do? You stood aside quite willingly while your friend here was murdered by your pathetic brother! Why is the crown prince any different?”

  Bayard shook his head, “he is a mortal man, if steeped in evil too great to imagine; Kyan is a Messenger though temporarily clothed in mortal flesh. We all knew what would happen this night, if not exactly how or by whom. Had Justin not acted as he did, the Dragon would have. But I cannot stand aside while you attempt to destroy a mortal man who is an unwilling participant in the act; Justin made his choice.”

  Firnan laughed darkly, “you would save the life of your murderous brother even when it means your Kingdom will never be free?”

  Bayard nodded grimly, “I will do what I must.”

  “So be it,” said the captain, and in one fluid motion, Firnan drew his sword and decapitated both of his companions, who vanished in a blinding flash. He grinned in triumph and then hastened to find the young prince ere the nuisances returned.

  He darted out the door, not looking at his insensible men, and darted for the banquet hall where the majority of the castle’s occupants were dancing the night away. He secreted a dagger up his sleeve and hurried to find the crown prince. The serpent met him at the door and hissed in fury, “I know what you intend, you pathetic little puppy, and it will not avail you! Either you will swear fealty and obedience to me this moment or I will engulf you as I did your pathetic little shadow of a prince.”

  “Enough!” said Bayard, his misty form gathering itself together in the shadowy corridor, glowing slightly in the gloom. “Serpent,” said he, grave as death, “you will leave this place or I will do what I must to unmake you!”

  The creature drew back from the lesser minion and studied the young fool with gloating eyes, “unmake me you say? How would you propose to do that, wretch? Even your own Master will not exercise that power.”

  Bayard said stonily, “it was my blood and my flesh that gave you your power and thus can I be your undoing, reducing you to the mewling shadow you were when my brother bespoke his vile promises.”

  The creature gaped at the boy, suddenly terrified, “you wouldn’t! What would that do to you? Are you willing to pay that price?” He looked into the boy’s grim gaze and knew that he would. For the first time since gaining his unholy power, the Dragon knew fear, but he was also a bully and desperate for the power that would soon be his; he would not back down. Hissed he, “do your worst little ghost, let us see if you are bold enough to do as you say.” He managed a laugh at the last, but it was forced and quavered tremulously.

  Bayard’s face was set in a stern frown, his form became that which his folk had once known, and he walked boldly into the swirling mass of merrymakers. At first none noticed the plainly clad, grim faced boy as he stepped unheeding into the dancers’ path, but first one, then another noticed who it was and faltered in their steps, causing others to react in turn until the whole room was suddenly silent and still in terror as the apparition made its way towards the head of the room, where sat Tyne with his lady and the King. The two men stared in horror and the lady looked on, perplexed at the reception given this unremarkable boy. The wraiths watched from the shadows of the doorway, nervous and mystified at what was to come. He could not possibly go through with it; he had not the nerve.

  Bayard reached the dais where his father and brother sat, the lady beside them. He bowed to the appropriate degree and caught each man’s gaze and held it, unflinching, but they each averted their eyes in turn with a sh
udder of revulsion and dread, for they caught a glimpse of greater things in the depths of Bayard’s eyes and feared to look long therein. Said he in a quiet, stern voice yet heard by every soul in the room, “your plots will not avail you! Long has this Kingdom’s peace been bought with blood, my own but the latest, but no longer! Recant your evil this moment, or face the bloodguilt that is owed.”

  Tyne’s fury soon overcame his horror, snarled he, “who are you to judge? To mete out justice?”

  Bayard said grimly, “I am he who paid the price for your own power, and therefore the linchpin upon which all your plots rest. Should I so choose, I can bring your Kingdom tumbling down. The cost is great, but I am willing to pay it. Will you recant?”

  Tyne raised his chin and hissed, “no!”

  The King shuddered, “come my son, do not be unreasonable! It was for the greater good, certainly you must see that your sacrifice was not in vain?”

  Bayard bowed his head, “nay lord, you have heaped evil upon evil and one way or another; it must end. If you will not repent, I will bring this kingdom to its knees.”

  Snarled the King, “we shall see about that! Firnan!”

  The captain came at the run, bowed hastily to the King, and gave Bayard a cruel smile, “yes, my lord?”

  The King smiled mirthlessly, “arrest this ghost or otherwise dispose of him if that is your desire.”

  Firnan bowed, drew his sword, and said with a pleased smile, “my pleasure, Highness.”

  No sooner had he bared his blade than Garren and Kyan suddenly materialized in the midst of everything, their own swords in hand, forcing the fiend away from Bayard and his kinsmen. Tyne roared, “come, Dragon!”

  The creature slithered up to the dais, cringing back from Bayard and looking at his charge with uneasy eyes, “yes?”

  Snarled Tyne, “why do you fear this ghost? Destroy him utterly if you can!”

  The creature whimpered, “that I cannot though he can unmake me, or at least reduce me to a quivering shadow once more.” His voice grew malicious, “and as happens to me, so it shall be with you! Should he do that which he intends, you too shall be reduced to a whispering shadow and nothing more.”

  Tyne shivered, “how can this be!? I thought my power was unstoppable.”

  Bayard smiled grimly and shook his head, “there is only one Power that cannot be stopped nor shaken, and it is the antithesis of that which you serve. Now will you repent of your evil this moment or shall we all of us find ourselves unmade, at least mortally speaking?”

  Tyne leapt at his impudent brother, knife in hand, but passed harmlessly through the unblinking Bayard, who whispered, “so be it!”

  “No!” shrieked the Dragon and turned upon the irrational prince instead. He might end a shadow regardless, but he would not have it told that it was because a suicidal Messenger had got the better of him. It was a moment’s work to grievously wound the distracted prince and then to turn upon the King; neither would he let Firnan have the victory.

  Father and son both fell to the creature while Bayard was momentarily preoccupied with his brother’s attack and then with his own final act. Their screams drew the inward focused boy back to the horrors before him. The King and crown prince lay bleeding from innumerable wounds while both fiends grew less distinct by the moment. As each man breathed his last, so too did each Minion fade to nothing more distinct than a blotchy shadow in the flickering torchlight, which quickly fled in disgrace and outrage. So was the Kingdom delivered from blood guilt. But not from a woman’s wrath.

  Instead of fainting or fleeing or shrieking as any proper, nobly bred lady would do, the astonished and quite disappointed young woman, whose betrothed lay shredded upon the flagstones, snarled at the astonished youth before her, “you, warlock! I demand recompense!”

  Bayard stared at her blankly, too astounded at what had happened as yet to understand the enraged woman’s demands; he was still trying to comprehend that he need not make the final sacrifice to accomplish his quest. Garren approached, a sad smile on his face; Kyan followed closely after, grinning in relief and triumph, too happy to still have his friend this side of eternity to immediately notice the tragedy that had been wrought. The next moment he heard his irate sister snarl, “I thought you had promised to get yourself out of my sight?”

  Kyan shrugged, “it is not yet daybreak my lady, I did not promise to flee in the dark.”

  She sniffed disdainfully and turned her rapacious eyes upon Garren, who was conversing quietly with Bayard. He felt her piercing eyes upon him and turned to her with a gallant bow, “how may I be of service lady?”

  She lifted her chin but smiled coldly, feeling at last here was a man who understood how a lady ought to be treated. Said she, slightly mollified, “I was to be Queen, until this vile sorcerer came back from the grave to avenge himself on his father and brother. I demand recompense.”

  Garren shook his head, “nay lady, I would advise you to return home to your father’s house and listen well to your brother’s counsel. This castle is fated to crumble to dust, the realm will be divided amongst its various lords, and none who carry the tainted blood of this guilty clan will ever sit upon the throne, at least not in this generation.” He turned to the huddling, cringing courtiers and said for all to hear, “judgment has been meted out to your vile King and his despicable heir, heed well what you have seen this night. Disperse now from this place and let the rule of this nation pass into better hands. The keep shall crumble to ruin and none shall dwell here in the coming years but the fox and kite. Too long has this land been steeped in evil of the vilest sort and no longer will its peace and strength be maintained thereby. Be gone!”

  The lady lifted her chin as high as it would go and stared down her nose at Garren, “that is no way to treat a lady, sir! I demand recompense.”

  Garren shook his head, “nay madam, you have lost nothing and there is naught to recoup. Get you gone.”

  Kyan offered her his hand to help her down from the dais but she slapped it scornfully away and glared daggers at him. He shrugged, backed away, and joined ranks with his comrades. They exchanged a grim smile and then suddenly faded to mist, leaving the mystified court to gape all the more. Many did not linger another moment but made haste to depart from that place, never more to return. The lady thought to gather a following, but she had no power or influence among them and they melted away like snow in spring. Not even the King’s surviving sons could gather more than a handful of their father’s guardsmen or a few minor lords about them, the latter undoubtedly hoping for a chance at power themselves. They too soon vanished into the lowlands, seeking what future they could and inwardly shuddering at the fate that had befallen their elder brothers and their father. The lady harrumphed a sigh, gathered her servants, and returned to her father’s house, where she eventually became a princess as the rule of that particular province fell to her father’s keeping, so she was not utterly disappointed. At least she did not have to ride home accompanied with her annoying brother.

  An eerie mist, radiant with its own light, crept about the keep as the uneasy residents made ready their flight. No sooner had the last scullion crept from the keep with only the rags on his back, than did that mist reassemble itself into three unremarkable men. Kyan sighed in relief, “that was quite an adventure.”

  Garren slapped him on the back with a hearty laugh, “it will be but the first of many lad, or at least so I hope.” He smiled proudly at Bayard, “how about you lad, you very nearly made that final decision, but since you have been granted a reprieve, will you still Go?”

  Bayard grinned eagerly, “I was loath to Go, but ready should it have been required of me. I wish to remain at least a little longer to see what my new occupation entails.”

  Garren smiled broadly, “good lad!”

  Kyan asked in wonder, “what would have happened if the monster had not intervened?”

  Garren said quietly, “your friend would
have utterly vanished from the mortal sphere; he would even now reside in eternity, never more to be seen under sun or star. We can of course choose to Go at any time, but it was the only way to strip the Dragon of its power short of killing its charge. So it is that he can linger on in this service for as long as he would wish.” He glanced about the now empty castle, not even the boldest dared remain behind and rumor would soon spread, ensuring few would dare seek out this haunted edifice in the coming days and years. It was doomed to crumble like the ruin on the adjacent mountain had. The rising morning bathed the grim structure in a golden radiance that momentarily warmed its stark angles and dimmed the forbidding shadows.

  Bayard shivered, “I never felt at home here; unhappy were many who have dwelt in its shadow. It is no tragedy that it fall to dust nor that my father’s line is broken.”

  Kyan grinned like the mischievous lad he was, “at last your folk have seen reason, this place was a ruin long before ever I laid eyes upon it!”

  They all laughed and melted into the golden mist of morning. Two fretting shadows, hiding in the deepest corners from the dreadful light of day, were only too happy to see the intruders at last vanish. They might have suffered a momentary defeat, but they would wait, and eventually they would again gain physical form and power beyond mortal dreaming. They must only lurk about this grim old ruin until a suitable candidate stumbled by, seeking things which were never meant to be his. The shadows could be as patient as the mountains themselves if necessary, no longer touched by the hand of time as they were. Their day would come again and then let the world and their enemies tremble at the very thought! Or at least so they told themselves.

  Rumor did spread and each telling was worse than the last until the ancient fortress became a byword for all things dark and terrible and stained with blood. The Kingdom itself broke into several smaller realms, each ruled by a onetime lord who was now a King. The Messengers were busy about their Master’s business and quickly did time pass, for outside of it as they were, they heeded it as little as a fish the water. But in the ruinous castle, a pair of furious shadows fumed and fretted, feeling each hour as heavily as if they bore the world on their backs, so eagerly did they desire a restoration of their power and the chance for revenge. At last, with the speed of continents, their chance came. After several hundred years of neglect, the crumbling castle looked very much as reputation held it to be. The wild tales and the sentient shadows lurking about the place only added to the infamy and mystique evoked by its already grim facade. Here was a place where murder was as minor a crime as filching apples from a neighbor’s tree. The man stood without and trembled in eagerness and dread.

  He was a Knight come with his squire to investigate this old ruin and see if therein lay fitting adventure for a Knight-errant. He had left his servant downslope where they had made a rough camp and had come to the ruin afoot, to further explore the place and see if it were wise to bring his squire and horses within its shadow. He felt power here, forbidden but awful, and he trembled for want of it. He entered the gaping gates that had long since rotted to uselessness and felt as if he had violated a tomb that had lain undisturbed since the foundation of the world. It was a bright and sunny morning of spring without but inside it might have been a murky, colorless autumn twilight. There was an unnatural chill and silence about the place, one dared hardly breath for fear of drawing unearthly eyes, but the knight stepped deeper into the shadows and there discovered how this power might be his. He hastened from that place, eager as he had not been since his youth, for he would be King and reunite the fractured realm as it had been of old when his forefathers sat upon the throne and ruled from this very place. He had only to fetch his unwitting servant.

  As his master climbed up to the old ruin to scout about, Kipril went about his own duties setting up the camp and tending to their horses. He could barely see the crumbling relic far up the slope; an errant wind, that might have strayed out of midwinter, suddenly gusted down the mountain and sent a shudder down the boy’s spine and set the horses to whinnying nervously and tossing their heads. He had no wish to see the eerie ruin any closer, and was glad his master had taken it upon himself to do the initial inspection. He turned from his grim musings to resume his interrupted chores, but jumped to see a plainly clad boy about his own age hiking up the slope just below the dell where their camp nestled. He hastened down to meet the newcomer, happy to have some human companionship upon this cursed mountain. “Well met!” cried he in relief, “whatever are you doing in a place with such a reputation?”

  Bayard smiled warmly at the lad and wondered if his greeting would be as friendly if he knew the full tale of this place. He replied in turn, “only a fool comes here or those seeking evil gain. I have come to warn you of this place and urge you to go somewhere that is less fraught with sorrow and death.”

  Kipril nodded glumly, “it is not of my own accord that I linger here, but my master insists that we seek here what adventure we may.”

  Bayard looked grimly up the slope towards his former home, “nothing but evil lurks therein. Your master is already up at the ruins?”

  The boy nodded, “and I would be anywhere else, but I fear to lose my place if I show my lack of courage.”

  Bayard smiled wryly, remembering his own days of perceived dishonor, said he, “you are wise indeed to wish to flee this place; it is not cowardice but wisdom. Where would you go if you were free to wander where you would?”

  Kipril smiled wistfully, lost in yearning, “I feel drawn across the valley to that mountain yonder, what waits there I cannot imagine, but I feel it calling to my very soul.”

  Bayard nodded in approval, “then get you gone. Flee this place and see what awaits on the next mountain over. Know that should your master find you, your life is forfeit! Do not bide in this place for his coming; for your very life, run!”

  The boy shuddered, but did not argue, for some innate sense told him the boy spoke truly and that his life was indeed forfeit should his master see him more. He nodded a hasty farewell and hied himself down into the vale and towards the distant mountain. Bayard watched him go with a grim smile before adjusting his features to resemble the fled boy. He looked up at the crumbling keep and wondered what the shades would think upon seeing him again.

  The knight returned with the evening, eager to finish what he had begun. Said he to the boy as he rushed into the camp, “come lad, we have business at the keep. Never mind supper, this is important!” He took hold of the protesting boy and half shoved and half drug him up the slope towards the castle, making very poor progress in his attempted haste. It was full night by the time they stood outside the castle, the gates yawning widely like the mouth of death. The knight stood panting, trying to catch his breath while the boy studied the changes time had wrought in the old ruin. It was more grim and stark than ever, going to ruin in places, but still very much the miserable abode of his youth. Having regained his breath, the knight took the boy by the shoulder and forced him into the keep, saying, “you are about to see things which few among mortal men have ever glimpsed.”

  A large, toppled stone lay in the center of the courtyard and would serve well for what the knight intended. Bayard smiled grimly, wondering what the man would think when his victim had no blood to spill. He could sense the evil auras cast by the lurking Minions and knew it would not be long before his charade was unveiled; he hoped the boy had had sufficient time to escape his murderous master.

  “I have come,” trumpeted the man in triumph, “let us commence that I might have my due!”

  There came the sounds of derisive laughter and a mocking voice sounded in the deepest shadows, “this is your intended victim?” The scornful laughter and unintelligible comments continued unabated while the knight silently fumed.

  At last, he snarled, “you said this required blood! What is wrong with him?”

  The guffaws became hearty indeed and the voice keened, “that on
e has no blood to avail you, fool! He’s been dead for centuries! We sent you for a living man, not a bloodless specter.” The fervent cackling continued unabated and the knight grew more incensed by the moment.

  He turned on his seeming squire and demanded, “what are these fiends going on about?”

  Bayard wore a bland smile, though the knight could not see it in the dark, and said, “you are the one who brought me here. What have I to do with them or this place?”

  The knight sounded rather puzzled, “this is true, what would you know of any of this?” He turned to the sounds of merriment in the deeper shadows, “will you tell me why you find this situation so amusing?”

  There came another outburst of hilarity but one of the voices chortled at last, “the wretch is dallying for time, hoping to give your true victim a chance to escape. He is not who you take him to be. His own story is intricately woven into the history of this place and so it seems like to continue. Run him through with your sword and see for yourself.” His voice faded away into more giggles while the knight stood staring at the silhouette of his squire in the dark, a frown etched upon his brow.

  He shrugged, he had meant to kill the boy anyway, so why not? He unsheathed his blade and ran the unflinching boy through the heart. There was neither outcry nor injury, blood nor death. The boy stood there as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be conversing with shadows in the dead of night with a murderous companion at your side. A note of terror tinged the knight’s voice this time, but the fury was far greater and ill contained, said he, “who or what are you? Where is my squire?”

  Bayard flashed him a grin, letting his mortal guise melt away, revealing a misty form, radiant from within, said he, “I was once the second son of the king of this place before my elder brother did as you intended, using my blood to achieve power at a grievous price to all but himself. Now I ward the mortal world from villains such as these and schemes such as yours. Farewell!” He faded from their perception, leaving a very perplexed knight and two guffawing shadows alone in the night.

  Kipril ran as hard as he could, hoping to attain his goal, whatever it was, ere his master finally caught up with him. He half ran, half slid down the slope into the valley between the mountains and then scrabbled for footing as he ascended the far side and drew ever nearer whatever it was that so called to his heart. As the sun was sinking beyond the distant hills in a fury of scarlet splendor, Kipril fell to his knees in exhaustion beside another ruin, this one far older and though uncanny in feel, it felt neither grim nor evil, simply foreign to his mortal sensibilities. He caught his breath and stood, as the first stars began to peep out in the dusky firmament, gazing in trepidation at the single opening into the stonewalled enclosure, knowing that this is what his heart yearned for above all else but also knowing that once he crossed that threshold, life as he knew it would be over. He glanced off into the darkness, knowing what awaited out there was far worse than whatever might happen amidst the standing stones. He took a deep breath and plunged into the midst of the stones, falling as one dead the moment his feet crossed the doorway. His body lay under the waxing stars, breathing slowly and insensible to the glory of the night.

  A boy stepped out of the night and silently studied the fallen figure amidst the stones for a long, thoughtful moment before approaching the prone form. There was no longer a grave-keeper for the Cave of Dust, the last specimen had died without leaving an heir and none came forward seeking to fill the position in these wild and haunted mountains, so the duty fell to the Messengers to attend to their own. Bayard took up the insensible boy and easily found the entrance in the midst of the circle, carefully descending the relatively new stairs that were now the only way into or out of the Cave; the old entrance having been sealed after the last grave-keeper died to prevent any unwanted visitors, as had attended Bayard’s own interment. Only those in the Master’s service could enter the stone ring and gain access to the new entrance into the Cave. This arrangement and the Watchers guaranteed that the sleepers could molder undisturbed.

  Bayard felt keen eyes upon him the moment he entered the Cave, but also felt their disinterest in himself and their eagerness over his burden, it had been many a year since they had had something to ward; the previous occupants had long since fallen to dust. He gently swept aside the debris on one of the stone biers, which may or may not have been the mortal remains of one of his colleagues, and then lay the unmoving form solemnly in place. The Watchers keened eagerly from their perches overhead and he heard the ruffle and flutter of innumerable wings as the creatures shifted in place, trying to get a better look. He smiled ruefully, nodded solemnly, and took his leave. He left the stony circle and wandered a bit further down the hill until he found what he sought: in a rill at the base of the rise he found blind tendrils of mist that seemed to glow with moonlight though the moon was nowhere to be seen. He smiled warmly in remembrance and called upon the wandering fingers of mist to pull themselves together.

  With a little concentration, they resolved themselves into an apparition very much resembling the boy he had just interred in the Cave of Dust. He smiled joyously in recognition and they talked for some time about Kipril’s new occupation and what had come of his former master. Said Bayard, “he will come for you.”

  Kipril nodded, not seeming surprised, “he was ever a man to do as he said, once he had determined to do something a certain way, he would not be gainsaid, no matter how difficult or impossible the task. If he has sworn to spill my blood, he will not be content until he has achieved his goal.”

  Bayard shook his head, “how he is to gain access to the Cave is beyond me, but I am sure his nameless allies will aid him by every means possible and who knows the limit of their cunning or vile powers? If he gains what he seeks, and he must if he is to attain the power he desires, then things will grow dark indeed, dark as they have not been since the days when the ruin across the valley was still peopled. You may be called upon to make a difficult choice.”

  The boy nodded, “whatever my duty, gladly shall I do it.”

  Bayard nodded sadly and smiled proudly, “such is our Call and our joy. Welcome to the Messengers!” He frowned, “they are already upon us, come.”

  They ghosted down the hill and awaited the coming of a furious looking man in the regalia of a full knight and the two pensive shadows that accompanied him. The man could not see his former squire, but the shades exchanged an eager, knowing look, wondering if history could repeat itself in this place where the uncanny was an everyday occurrence. Snarled the Knight, “give me my due phantasm or I shall pull this place down stone by stone until I find what is rightfully mine!” Kipril stared in wonder at the glowering figure of the knight, oblivious to his former squire, and wondered how he had ever held the scoundrel in such awe and one day hoped to emulate him in every respect. He shuddered at the thought and sighed a grateful prayer for his escape.

  Bayard shook his head grimly, “you will waste your life seeking that which is not yours to possess. Be gone from this place and find something worthwhile to do with your life.”

  The man laughed him to scorn and immediately set out to learn the lay of the land and discover the secrets of this haunted mountain. The shades did not follow, for they could sense that which belonged to them in the heart of the hill, but first the one who swore the oath must fulfill his promise of blood or they would remain nothing more than wretched shadows for the rest of time. Snarled the first, “we know where he lies. Save us all the trouble and give him up!”

  The second hissed, “you know we shall have him in due course, why waste your time and energy when you could apply it to something far more worthwhile?”

  Bayard laughed heartily, “keeping the world free of another Dragon is well worth any amount of effort on our behalf! Your Knight will spend half his life digging out that which lies at the heart of the hill and by then it will have decayed beyond use or interest.”

  Growl
ed a wraith, “that might well be, but at least it is a chance. Anything is better than moldering for another century in that castle. Let the wretch waste his mortal days! What is that to us? Even if he does not reach it in time, it shall be no end of amusement to watch him try and there will be other fools just as gullible in days to come.”

  Meanwhile the Knight made a circuit of the crumbling ruin atop the hill, careful to avoid the ring of standing stones, knowing it was death to enter therein. He returned at last to where his shadowy allies held court with that ghostly nuisance. Said he, “where is the entrance to the Cave?”

  Bayard grinned mischievously, “it was sealed centuries ago and it will be the work of many years to invade that tomb, by which time your quarry will have rotted to dust. Is that how you wish to spend half your mortal days?”

  The Knight growled, “I have sworn that the boy’s blood will be spilled on behalf of my companions here and I must fulfill my vow or worse shall come of it. Where does the wretch lie?” Bayard rolled his eyes and vanished, leaving the man alone with the shadows and his pride. He immediately took up an ancient shovel, no doubt a relic of the last grave-keeper, and began to hew at the side of the hill, more to vent his frustration rather than in hopes of actually gaining what he sought. The shades exchanged an amused look and ventured into the burial chamber it would take the Knight a decade or more to penetrate with his current strategy.

  They found the two Messengers within, studying the still form intently. The Watchers above squawked and shifted in agitation, unhappy with the advent of the fiends in their midst but unable to repel them, as technically the vile creatures had a claim on their charge. As the shades entered through the side of the hill, as if it were no more than a bank of fog, the Messengers shifted their gaze and simultaneously drew their swords. The shadows hissed in alarm and outrage, what right had the creatures to deny them access to their prey? But their fury was short-lived, at least in that place, for the Messengers drove them from the Cave with a well placed stroke and found themselves again alone, save for the Watchers. Bayard turned to Kipril, saying, “it is probably for the best. The Minions and their Knight will not rest until they are destroyed or you are. At least in this way we will not have the risk of another Dragon. You are certain?”

  Kipril nodded, “let us be about it before I change my mind. It is for the best, no matter that the very thought is enough to break my heart. I have only just entered this service and now to leave it willingly? But no, we cannot risk it. The creatures will not have their chance.”

  The Watchers suddenly began squawking in wonder and joy as the entire cavern was filled with a light too bright to look upon and not go blind. The Messengers found themselves on their knees in joy and trepidation as their Master appeared before them. Said a voice more wondrous than Love itself, “come child, I will not lose the service of so faithful a heart nor will My enemies prosper any more in this manner. Take again your mortal form, bear it far from here, and let your pursuers not benefit thereby, but you shall remain firmly within My keeping. All who now enter this service will leave no mortal body behind for My enemies to prey upon; only mist and moonlight shall remain in their wake. Rise child, and go!” The Light dimmed, the Watchers squawked now in agitation, and the entire Cave began to tremble.

  The Messengers exchanged an eager but puzzled look and dashed towards Kipril’s inert form while the Watchers left their perches and fled the Cave. Clumps of dirt and bits of rock fell about them as they reached the bier on which the boy’s mortal remains lay. He gave Bayard one last determined look and then vanished. Kipril gasped like a landed fish and Bayard immediately took hold of his hand; they both vanished like morning mist in the sun as the roof of the cavern collapsed in the place where they had been.

  They reappeared in a spindly wood at twilight, blinking in astonishment at one another, a fey smile on each face. Kipril’s grin became a pained grimace before he fell forward and lay still, an arrow protruding from his back. Only then did Bayard notice that he was invisible to mortal eyes as a reprehensible looking fellow approached the fallen boy but was completely oblivious to his former companion. Even as the man turned the prone form over, Kipril groaned once and breathed his last; he suddenly appeared at Bayard’s side, with a broad smile on his face and dancing eyes. The rest of the bandit gang drew up around the dead intruder and their inquisitive fellow, who said, “he’s dead. Looks just like any peasant lad I’ve ever seen, I wonder what the fool was doing wandering these woods when he ought to have known they’re infested with outlaws! He won’t be repeating his idiocy anyway.”

  The captain of the bandits nodded grimly, “perhaps, but how did he get into the very heart of our camp with none the wiser? I do not like it.”

  “And well you should not,” came a harsh and unexpected voice, every eye was suddenly focused on a Knight in full armor, skidding down the side of the hill. “That boy was mine,” snarled he, “you shall pay with your lives!”

  The captain scoffed, “I am certain we shall.” He nodded and his assorted thieves made short work of the Knight. Though the man was clad in full armor and knew well the use of his sword, his footing was uncertain, he was far outnumbered, and in the failing light he could not see all of his assailants before one or another had managed to find a chink in his armor and drive a knife into his ribs.

  “Fool!” hissed another unexpected voice, this from a creature none but the Messengers could see. All froze in terror but the dying Knight’s gaze was fixed on his shadowy allies, continued the shade, “is this how you fulfill your vow? Will you now die, a useless and pathetic failure or join ranks with us?” The Knight whimpered in terror but made no further reply as he sank into oblivion, from which he was never to waken in the mortal world. The shade snarled imprecations in a vile tongue and turned its hateful gaze upon the bandit king, “what of you? Would you have the power this fool did not have the wisdom to realize? You have already spilled blood this day, what is a little more?”

  “No!” gasped a voice stricken with terror, more at what might be than at what was before his eyes.

  The captain snarled his own imprecations and ordered the disturber of the peace to be brought forward. The boy trembled at his feet but he defiantly locked eyes with the captain and dared him to do his worst, yet pled with him not to go through with this horrid ritual. The captain looked to the shade, a darker blot in the night, and said, “will his blood be enough?”

  The shade shrugged, “there are two of us to pacify, his blood will only suffice for one of us, but perhaps a partial strengthening is the best that can be achieved at the moment. Do it!”

  The captain’s knife flashed blood red in the last rays of the setting sun and drove deep into the boy’s chest, but even as the captain withdrew his dagger, the boy vanished suddenly and the wraiths hissed in frustration, which suddenly turned to satisfaction as they felt themselves grow more solid with a defined shape and presence in the mortal sphere. Their features were still indistinguishable and muddy, as if they were shapen of clay by an unskilled hand, but they were no longer mere shadows whispering from beyond the realm of the living. The blood price had been paid, at least in part, even if they had no corpse to prove it. Whatever those foolish Messengers wanted with a dead man was their own affair; if they were that desperate for carrion, they were welcome to it. The two Fiends turned their eyeless faces expectantly upon the bandit captain and he shuddered, wondering if he had made the right decision after all. The rest of his company would have fled had they not been frozen in absolute terror, wondering which of them would be next.

  Ithril’s world had fallen to pieces only that morning, kidnapped by bandits as he was, and it did not seem to be improving as evening fell and he felt the bandit’s knife pierce his heart. He felt afire and could not breath, but before the darkness consumed him, a great light washed over him. He remembered kind eyes, dancing with unspeakable joy even in the midst of tragedy and then all
was mist and moonlight: cool, calm, and free of all fear and pain and regret. He opened his eyes on a completely different world, and for what might have been the first time in ages, he smiled.

  Garren moved silently through the crowded back alleys of the booming river town, while visible, those brushing shoulders with him little noticed that their shoulders did not actually touch his, so concerned were they with their own affairs and minding the crowd about them. In the poorest part of the city, he knew his quarry lay obligingly around the next corner. The wretched, winding street, barely wide enough for even one man to walk comfortably down, was crowded with refuse and miniscule domiciles barely fit for rats. Here the poorest of the poor huddled miserably in their shivering masses, struggling through their brief span of days before they were utterly forgotten among the nameless dead. But there was One who yet knew the name of even the most wretched of these unfortunate creatures, and today He called one such to Himself.

  Garren’s heart quivered in pity as he ghosted through the abominable street, the sounds of misery and wretchedness assaulting him from all sides. A feeble, hacking cough drew his attention to a certain residence, if it could be called that, whose door did not latch but was rather a makeshift collection of assorted boards roped together and held in a rough approximation of closed with another castoff cord. Garren did not bother with knocking but entered quietly into the cramped, dimly lit chamber whose only light came through the cracks in the door and front wall, for there were no windows or candles in such a place. A vaguely manlike creature, though so wasted and shrunken one could see every bone in his frame, lay upon a pile of rags against the far wall, and it was from this trembling ruin of humanity that another bout of hacking erupted, weak though it was.

  Garren said quietly, but with great compassion and no little joy ringing in his solemn voice, “will you come away from all this?”

  The wretched man turned his head slightly, towards the unfamiliar sound of a friendly voice, and gazed at the intruder dully through overlarge eyes in a skull-like face. He blinked in exaggerated slowness, smiled wanly as if at some insipid joke, and then turned a vacant stare upon the ceiling, an edifice Garren dared not study more closely. He shook his head grimly, took the smile for an affirmative, and took up the moribund lad who weighed no more than a healthy child half his age. The invalid did not protest at this bold move, perhaps thinking it just another delirium, and so they vanished forever from that horrid place, unfit even to house swine. They reappeared within the ring of standing stones and the astonished boy gave Garren a wide-eyed stare before melting into mist and moonshine.

  Garren glanced up as his burden vanished from his grasp and smiled broadly upon sighting Bayard amid the stones. They met in the center of the ruin and joyous was their greeting. They quickly exchanged news and smiled at their common errand. Kyan and Kipril then materialized, sharing introductions and greetings all around. Then all four watched expectantly as the two newest of their number drew themselves together out of the ubiquitous mist that carpeted the ground amidst the stones. After another round of greetings, introductions, and some explanation to the neophyte Messengers, Bayard queried of Garren, “how often are so many of us together in one place?”

  Garren shook his head in wonder, the others watching intently, “never to my knowledge, but there is certainly something afoot else we would not be here.”

  The next moment an inexorable light obliterated them all, at least from any conscious awareness of themselves or anything but the Light, and they soon had their explanation and their next quest, strange as it was. As the light faded, six mortal men found themselves huddling in the collapsed cavern beneath the stones, for within that ring no mortal could linger, even for a moment, unchanged. But rather than finding themselves trapped for all eternity in that ruined tomb, a narrow path lay before them amid the tumbled stones and with careful scrambling in the dark, they soon emerged into the fading light of afternoon through the ancient entrance into that forsaken Cave, apparently opened anew when the interior collapsed upon itself. Ithril and Corbin, the newest members of that order, had had so little experience in this strange new world they now inhabited that they did not find their current predicament odd in the least, rather the former was ecstatic to be free of both bandits and injury, while the latter was hale and healthy for the first time in three long years. Kipril smiled eagerly, still so new a Messenger that just about anything was considered exciting. The three eldest, who had at least a few years experience, exchanged an intrigued look, wondering if they could adapt to this forgotten, and limited, form once more, but they were eager for the challenge.

  Bayard looked across the valley to the hulking ruin, already draped in the shadows of evening, that had once been home, for thence were they bound. Of one accord, they left the ancient stones to themselves and began the descent into the valley. They forbore discussing the matter until full night forced them to make camp for the evening, more for the sake of their fragile mortal forms rather than the darkness, for they still retained their uncanny vision in even the deepest dark. Between them, they soon found they possessed enough in the way of provisions to make for a merry evening under the stars, but soon it was all to bed, for some it was the first true sleep they had had in centuries. Garren stood the first watch and mused silently over the course life had taken in the last twelve hours, of all his adventures, this one perhaps would be the most memorable, certainly the most bizarre. A few hours later, he wakened Bayard for his turn at watch and gratefully sought his own blankets, musing wryly that he was long overdue for a decent night’s repose.

  They wakened early and began their ascent as the sun started her own. By midmorning, they were standing outside the gaping gates of the abandoned castle, not entirely eager to enter therein. Bayard shook his head and smiled grimly, “will my tale never part from this accursed ruin?”

  Garren slapped him on the back and said roguishly, “by rights you are master of this place, being the direct descendant of the last King.”

  Bayard’s smile grew merry and he laughed in spite of himself, “the dearest desire of my heart, certainly! Why else would I have fled it centuries ago? Yes, that must be it indeed! I am to be King and ye my merry subjects.”

  Garren grinned recklessly, “forgive me Majesty if I forbear, my bows are a tad rusty and would not befit a monarch of your standing.”

  The neophytes were rather wide-eyed at the banter of their elders, but this last sent the entire company into fits of laughter from which it took them no little time to recover. “Well,” said Bayard at last, “no sense leaving this ruin to itself if we have business within. Now what parts are each of you fit to play?”

  They soon had themselves organized by talent and interest so that the place was now roughly staffed with a bare bones contingent of vital servants. Bayard took the place of steward, being both familiar with the ways of the nobility and the castle itself. Kyan would be valet to the new master of the place, whose arrival could come at any moment. The others would serve as various menials, laborers, cooks, hostlers, and scullions, as necessary. Garren grinned upon sighting the ruinous kitchen over which he now held mastery, “I never thought to wield a spatula in our Master’s Name, but so shall it be.” He turned to his companions, now serious, “will the imminent new master of this place and his minions so willingly accept us? It seems a bit too fortuitous for my taste, and I have not the suspicious nature of our so-called bandit King.”

  Bayard nodded, smiling slightly, “oh they shall certainly be suspicious, but they shall also be grateful for the company of other mortal creatures since the advent of those Shades in their midst. They will also look upon us as life savers, for we shall be a far more palatable offering to the appetites of said wraiths, at least to their captain’s thinking, than the men in his charge. Why sacrifice a proven man when so many strangers are ready to hand, that and they’ll see the advantages of not having to keep up with all the household chores themselves.
” His smile deepened, “that and being opportunists themselves, they will not fault the lot of us for taking advantage where we may. Now, my fellow menials, let us ready this place for the advent of our new master and his cronies.” They exchanged amused grins and then hastened to set the castle in order as best they could for its impending lord.

  As evening approached, hooves clattered in the courtyard and the servants rushed to greet their new master, who was notably astonished to be so attended. He scowled suspiciously at the strangers hastening to be of service, but allowed their help in attending to his horses and luggage. Once the immediate chores were settled, Bayard approached the bandit king, who stood in the courtyard glowering with arms crossed; upon giving an appropriate bow, the lad announced, “welcome home Sire, we have been anticipating your arrival and hope you find our service both welcome and acceptable.”

  The man snarled, “just who are you and what are you doing infesting my castle?”

  Bayard grinned like a fool, “we are here to serve, Sire. At least if you will have us. Like yourselves, we are men of opportunity and we hoped it would not be long ere this ruin was peopled again, which means there would be a place for servants once more.”

  The man’s glower receded into a thoughtful silence as he scratched his rough beard, “I suppose it cannot hurt to give you and your absurd companions a go of it. At least it will spare my men the bother.” His smile grew eager and grim, Bayard took an inadvertent step back from such a devious grimace, said the captain, “and I can think of certain other advantages to your presence as well. Very well, you may remain until your presence displeases me and then we shall see what comes of the matter.” He chuckled darkly but then stared suspiciously at the boy and ordered, “give me your hand.” Bayard immediately complied and received a dagger slash across his palm for his trouble; the bandit king relaxed significantly when he saw the blood oozing from the wound. At least the creature was mortal; he had had too many dealings with uncanny companions of late to keep any more within his immediate vicinity than he absolutely must. “Off with you!” snarled he and the boy went scurrying back to his business with agreeable terror and haste. The bandit smiled to himself and mused that this arrangement might turn out quite profitably after all.

  The Shadows were not quite so impressed nor accepting of these human vagabonds, the bandits were uneasy enough in their presence. What would these fickle strangers think? They needed neither panic, inane questions, nor rumors until they were ready to act, but then again there was still the matter of the half paid blood price. Another victim must feel the captain’s knife if they were both to wear a fully human guise and achieve the full potential of their power; a pity their vile Enemy no longer allowed his precious Messengers to leave behind a living corpse that might be used to reach a potential now known only in memory and legend. They kept to the shadows so the pathetic menials would not be troubled with unsettling visions and beset by troublesome questions. They watched the captain interview the apparent leader of the slaves about the place, and then summoned him to themselves once the creature had scurried back to the hole in which it undoubtedly lurked.

  The miserable wretch trembled in their presence, an ideal presentation, and one of them hissed, “tonight you will fulfill the rest of your blood oath and achieve the full extent of your powers. Bring the victim of your choice here when all the rest have settled themselves for the night. Go!”

  The captain hastened away from his masters, and simultaneously his slaves, as quickly as Bayard had fled his presence. He mused upon which of the wretched creatures to present as an offering to the vile shadows. He did not wish to part with any of his own men, so it must be one of the menials, yet would they take the sudden vanishment of one of their own amiss? He laughed grimly to himself, what did he care if the whole lot of them fled in terror? It would be one less thing he had to worry about. Now which of the menials was it to be? He entered the castle and was shown to the Royal Chambers wherein waited his personal valet. The bandit king laughed heartily inside, but kept a somber look on his face, having found just the creature. He needed no personal servant, bandit that he was. The boy was utterly useless therefore, save as a blood price to satiate the Shadows’ lust. Said he, “I have just the duty for you lad, if you are willing?” The boy nodded eagerly and the man’s smile was malice itself. Kyan shivered inwardly, but knew this was his appointed task and neither would it be his first time.

  The next morning the boy was missed immediately by his comrades but no one else seemed to notice or care. Two more nefarious strangers had appeared among the bandit throng; the Messengers knew them instantly for the Fiends they were though it seemed their own identities were yet hidden from the loathsome creatures. A minor ruckus at the still gaping gates brought Bayard, in his guise as Steward, to investigate for it was his appointed duty to see that life in the keep passed as efficiently and peaceably as possible. He blinked in astonishment at what he saw and smiled inwardly at this unexpected turn of events. Two of the bandits were ever on guard at the gateless gate, assuring none entered without their master’s leave. The pair on duty this morning was glaring at an unwashed peasant boy in ragged garments who seemed oblivious to the fact that the guards were annoyed nigh unto murder. At the approach of the ersatz steward they grinned maliciously and handed the nuisance to Bayard, saying, “here, a supplicant come to beg for bread and shelter, find a use for him or send him on his way or we shall make an end of the matter.”

  The boy flinched at their implication and cowered behind the unimpressed Bayard, who nodded grimly and silently herded the youth away from the openly grinning gate minions. The lad followed submissively behind, the picture of a properly cowed servant. Bayard fought desperately to keep his grin from betraying him. Once they were away from prying ears, he loosed all restraint and grinned like a maniac, said he with a joyous laugh, “come to beg for your old place? I don’t think I can give it to one so negligent in his duties. Do you realize your master has been without your aide all the morning? If he were a truly civilized person, rather than a bandit and a murderer, he would be completely unable to function. Well?”

  The boy laughed at the mock sternness in Bayard’s voice, saying, “I am glad you missed me. I do apologize for the delay, it was a rather necessary inconvenience and my former master should be the last to complain, for it was all of his doing. These nobles are quite uncouth in their demands if they truly have such expectations. Can’t a man be allowed to die in peace without being rousted from his grave and chided for tardiness in his duties?” With this apology, Kyan grinned all the more.

  Bayard shook his head and studied his companion with interest, at last he said, “this is really quite fascinating. I had no idea what to expect, but it was certainly not you returned, still a mortal man but with a different face.”

  Kyan grinned impishly, “I couldn’t very well come back and be recognized and had I not been mortal, those Fiends would have known what I was from the moment I entered the gate.” He shuddered at the memory of the previous night and continued, “they cut my throat as if I were nothing but a sheep for slaughter then tossed my corpse in a ditch to rot, but the moment no one was looking, I felt whole once more, climbed out of the gully, and returned to my post.” He smiled, “it seems our Master has seen to even the most minor of details. Any idea what we are to do here?”

  Bayard handed him a broom and said with a smile, “you can start by helping us put the keep back in order and make this place semi-habitable.” Kyan rolled his eyes emphatically but took the offered implement of cleanliness and got to work.

  The days passed in relative peace, though the keep buzzed like a beehive as the bandits settled in and began to repair the crumbling fortress. The Messengers were ideal servants: silent, efficient, and never demanding to be paid. The bandit king was so happy with their efforts on his behalf that he almost quit grumbling about his suspicions regarding their true intentions. The Fiends wat
ched intently but never found reason to suspect that the creatures were more than what they appeared. One of the monsters did take especial delight in tormenting the Steward. It was neither vengeance nor suspicion, but rather the result of the creature’s malicious nature. Every time the wraith encountered this particular mortal, he would make some snide remark as he touched the man’s shoulder and absorbed a little more of his life. As the encounters added up, Bayard felt as if he were aging noticeably by the day, a fact which the Fiends found vastly amusing. But acting in his own defense would betray his true nature so he tolerated the annoyance as best he could, and bided his time until the day when they could finally fulfill their mission.

  Garren studied him one day, as he passed through the kitchens on his way to another part of the castle, said he with a smile, “I do not think the stress of command agrees with you lad. You are getting gray hair!”

  Bayard grinned, “aye, it is no easy duty like feeding this rabble.” He frowned, “how do you keep us provisioned any way?”

  Garren shrugged, “there is always food in the pantry, don’t ask me how but it is quite convenient.”

  They both smiled appreciatively at their Master’s provision then Bayard sighed, “funny that I have not aged in centuries and now I’ve aged twenty years in as many days. I look forward to the day when I can show that Fiend who and what I truly am.” He fingered his fading locks ruefully, “and here I thought dying young was the key to immortal youth.” Garren shook his head at his friend’s assumed vanity and chivied him from the kitchens. The boy gave him an impish grin and dashed off upon his interrupted errand.

  By the time things finally got interesting, the steward looked as if he had held the position for a respectable forty years at the least. He feebly stood upon the battlements, supported by Kyan, whom he now employed as his personal page and errand boy, in these, his failing years. He grinned wryly at the thought but turned his attention back to the scene that held every eye in the keep. Cried the man in shining armor from without, one of a whole host of such men, “I hereby challenge the master of this place to single combat, if he is so bold, but if he refuses I will overthrow this ruin and see that no two stones are left one atop the other and all within shall be put to the sword!”

  Brave words, thought Bayard, but utterly foolish if he knew the powers with which he was dealing. His smile became grim indeed as he realized the Knight wouldn’t have to worry himself over such things if the Messengers successfully accomplished their task. He said in a voice husky with age, but tinged with eagerness, “help me descend lad, the hour has come!” Kyan’s eyes nearly glowed with excitement as he helped his ancient companion descend to the courtyard where the bandit king was conferring with his shadowy companions, all three looking far too keen for comfort.

  Bayard hacked a cough, bowed to the bandit king and his companions, and said in a rasping voice, “might I have a quiet word with your advisors Sire?”

  Their eyes widened at his impudence but the creature that had sapped almost all of his vitality smiled in malicious glee, as he gloated, “I will deign to listen to the pleas of this accursed imp.” The other shrugged, seemingly eager to share in whatever mischief his companion intended and curious to know what made the wretched mortal so bold. When the bandit king made to protest, the first shade snarled, “we shall return in plenty of time to deal with that minor nuisance without, but first I shall indulge this pest as I think it shall be vastly amusing to hear his whimpering pleas.” They turned as one and vanished deeper into the keep with Bayard limping painfully after, leaning heavily on Kyan for support. The bandit king glowered after him, his eyes promising certain doom at this interruption if he somehow managed to survive the hijinks of the Shades; he smiled dreadfully at the thought and laughed darkly, knowing he would never see the impudent creature again. A pity that, he had been a rather useful slave. He turned his attention back to the intruder at his gate, still spouting courageous drivel, and impatiently awaited the return of his Minions.

  The wraiths entered one of the larger dining rooms that had sat empty for years beyond count and feeling themselves alone, they turned upon the hobbling creature and his servant, watching in amusement as the preternaturally aged man made his way towards them. “Now what is this about?” hissed the creature that had pilfered most of the wretch’s strength.

  Bayard stood as straight as his crooked frame would allow and said boldly, “I hereby challenge you to a duel, villain.”

  The creatures exchanged an incredulous glance and the shade in question scoffed, “have you any idea what I am wretch? I who can suck the very life from your bones, the soul from your carcass? Will you challenge me even so?”

  Bayard nodded, “this must end, and it shall end now!”

  The wraiths laughed uncontrollably, the first saying, “aye, certainly it will end but not as you intend. You could not last much longer anyway. Let us make a proper end of the matter. I shall next turn my attention to your servant there, but just to give you a fighting chance, as if there were such a thing, you can make the first move in this altercation and I won’t even try to defend myself.”

  The laughter continued unabated for some moments before Bayard said quietly, “as you wish it, Fiend.” He nodded at Kyan, who drew his dagger and moved towards the second wraith as Bayard approached his adversary. The creatures laughed all the more as the boy and the octogenarian fell boldly upon them but their mirth turned suddenly to a hissing shriek as they vanished like shadows before the light. The Messengers exchanged an eager grin and then Kyan dashed out to find inform his fellows, Bayard hobbled feebly after.

  The bandit king saw the boy come flying out of the room where the shades had secreted themselves with the impudent steward, and then he gaped in astonishment to see the old man come hobbling out shortly after with nary a sign of the Minions. He darted to the steward and demanded, “where are my slaves?”

  Bayard grinned insolently and said, “they will return shortly but find themselves momentarily detained. Will the army without wait their coming?”

  The bandit king cuffed the insolent fool hard, too hard for his ancient bones to handle, sending the man sprawling into an unmoving heap against one wall. He smiled viciously at his handiwork but then remembered his predicament. His minions were gone, at least for the moment, and the fool without would not wait and his company was certainly large enough to overtake this ruined fortress with ease. He smiled grimly, for the fool knight had offered to settle the matter in single combat; the bandit king was a fell hand with a sword, especially when he was desperate. Let the wraiths return at their leisure and see that he could still manage his own affairs without their assistance. He laid his hand to his sword and bellowed for all to hear, “throw open the gates! I accept the fool’s challenge.” There were some murmurs of astonishment from his men, but they dared not defy him. They could see the situation outside as well as he could, at least this gave them a chance at success.

  The two combatants faced one another on a relatively flat piece of ground just outside the castle gates, their respective minions drawn up in an avid ring about them. Said the valiant knight to the bandit king, “I hereby challenge you to single combat. If I am the victor, all your followers shall be put to the sword and your fortress shall be thrown down stone by stone. If you are triumphant, my followers shall withdraw and leave you in peace, at least for a time. What say you?”

  The bandit gaped, “why are my men doomed while yours may simply withdraw?”

  The knight grinned coldly, “so am I bidden by One I dare not disobey, besides we are many to your few. If you refuse, I shall simply do as I intend without granting you the least chance of victory.”

  The bandit shuddered but he knew the man spoke truly, sighed he, “very well, it shall be as you say.” His minions muttered darkly but there was nothing for them to do now but hope their captain won.

  The combatants circled, exchanged a few tentative blows
to judge the other’s strength, and then leapt into a full-fledged exchange, which was shortly decided in favor of the knight. The bandit king was good for a man with no formal training, but the knight had been steeped in the warrior arts since he was barely able to walk. The moment their captain was down, the bandits went berserk but their foes had anticipated just such an outcome and quickly put down the uprising, leaving only the Messengers and the mortally wounded bandit king alive among the former residents of the castle.

  Bayard watched from the castle gates, not the sword match going on slightly below him, but two shadowy figures moving at unnatural speed up the hillside towards the place where their master fought for his life. He smiled slightly, knowing they would come too late, if only by a moment. He was still mortal, but the captain’s harsh treatment had inadvertently renewed his strength to its youthful vigor, just as Kyan had found life even in death. He watched the captain fall, the bandits mutiny, the ensuing slaughter, and then just as the Fiends made to fall upon the triumphant knight, the captain sputtered his last and the Minions melted again into harmless shadows, furious but futile. Bayard moved out of the gateway and approached the stern knight, bowing to the appropriate degree in greeting, said he, “the castle is yours, sir and I the last within. Do now as you are bidden.”

  The Knight studied the half dozen raggedly clad men, all that remained of the bandit’s host, but beneath their shabby garb, he could see that here were men of honor and duty above all else. They had stayed their hands when all the rest had attempted to gain vengeance even as they committed suicide. Said he at last, “I have vowed to rend this ruin stone from stone and to put all within to the sword, but here at the last I am uneasy to finish what I have begun. For I can see you are men true of heart and noble of spirit, and not truly a part of this upstart ragamuffin’s band.”

  Bayard bowed his head solemnly at this heartfelt reply but said sternly, “you must do as you are bidden lest worse come of it. We are mere servants and no true part of the plots herein, but even so, we are as bound by your oath as you yourself. But if you would spare us the sword, then let our fate be decided by another means. Across the valley lies another ruin, one of legend, accompany us there and thereby fulfill your oath.”

  The knight gaped at the seeming boy before him, “you would rather face the uncanny nature of that ancient ruin than a quick and honest death by my hand?”

  The boy grinned impishly, “nay sir, rather I will spare your hands the guilt of innocent blood and yet allow you still to do as you have promised. Leave our fate to Him whom you have sworn to serve.”

  The knight nodded grimly, “very well, we shall accompany you across the valley and there behold what doom awaits you; then we shall return and destroy this unsightly rock heap once and for all.” He motioned and his men were soon in their saddles with the Messengers walking easily in their midst, able to keep apace of the horses on the uneven ground. They had not gone far when the earth shook, the horses screamed and fought their riders, and all threw themselves to the ground, where they huddled in terror. When the earthquake subsided, all looked upon where the castle had once stood and gaped, for not one stone now remained upon another. Bayard grinned, “it seems half your oath at least is fulfilled. Come, we will see that all is finished by sunset.” The knight shook his head in wonder at the boy’s eagerness for his own doom but ordered his men back into their saddles and continued on their way.

  As the sun set the west aflame in scarlet and gold, the company drew rein downslope from the infamous standing stones. Leaving the horses and most of his men, the knight accompanied the Messengers up the hill with half a dozen of his best men. He studied the ruin grimly and said to Bayard, “here then is your doom, are you still so eager for whatever your fate might be?”

  Bayard nodded eagerly, “that I am. Thank you sir, you have served well and faithfully. May your Master reward you even so. Do not mourn for us, for we go with joy and perhaps we shall meet again on that Morning which shall know neither darkness nor tears.” He bowed formally and motioned for his fellows to enter the ringing stones.

  “Wait!” cried a young voice ere more than a step had been taken.

  Bayard turned back expectantly and smiled joyously to see an intrepid young squire darting forward. The Knight frowned in consternation, having given no order that the boy should accompany the party and wondering what he intended. Said the Knight sternly, “what are you about boy?”

  The lad froze, ready to flee towards the stones or away from them at the merest provocation, said he tremulously, “I would go with them Sir.”

  The Knight gaped, “go with them? Do you not know what comes of a mortal man who enters therein?”

  The boy said stiffly, “you have your calling sir, and I mine. Your duty lies to the south, warding your father’s kingdom from all manner of strife and disaster. Mine lies within those stones, whatever it is. Yes sir, gladly will I face this doom, if doom it be.”

  The knight nodded gravely, “then I cannot bar your way, fare you well lad in whatever betide.”

  The boy grinned broadly, gave Bayard an impish smile, and dashed among the stones, fading instantly into mist and moonlight. The knights gasped in awe and horror while the Messengers exchanged a longing smile. Of one accord, they nodded a farewell to the knight and followed after the boy, vanishing even as he. The knight shook his head in wonder but soon turned his steps towards his waiting men and his own duty, hoping he had half such a heart as the boy had just shown him and wondering anew at the strange men who had so joyously vanished into a world far beyond his ken. He smiled for sheer joy and knew one day they would meet again on an eternal morning upon that far shore that knew nothing of sorrow or grief. But for now, they had their duty and he his.

  Into Shadow:

  The crown prince could not sleep. He tossed and turned for nearly two hours that night, unable to settle his uneasy mind or still the unexplained terror coursing through his being. Unnamed fears in the dark had not kept him awake at night since he was a very little boy. Yet here he was, nearly a grown man on the very eve of the long awaited celebration that would mark his coming of age, fretting and restless because of a vague uneasiness about what lurked in the shadows of his own chamber. Ridiculous as it was, this realization did nothing to ease him into a blissful slumber, but then the reason for his uncanny feeling of wrongness presented itself and he wished with all his might that it was only fancy that plagued him. There were deeper shadows among the lesser shades of his room, and these began to whisper and hiss excitedly in an unknown tongue as they drew closer to the bed. The boy crouched deeper beneath the covers and shuddered, knowing there was no weapon that would avail him against such foes, at least until he heard a familiar scornful laugh.

  “Come big brother,” chastised his younger brother Garot, “why do you cower beneath your covers like a terrified child? At least be man enough to face your doom with equanimity!”

  Anger flared in Bayard’s heart, anger enough to overcome his terror, at least for a moment. He threw aside the blankets, not that they would be any protection against these mysterious fiends anyway, and glared into the darkness in the direction from which the taunts had come. Said he with a voice as smooth and chill as a winter pond, “what have you to do with this brother?”

  The younger scoffed, “why everything of course! It was all my idea after all. Now you will kindly accompany these, um, gentlemen and I will assume your place as heir to the throne. After the proper mourning rituals are observed of course. It is a good thing I look well in black.”

  “Of course,” said the elder, his anger fading and his fear flooding back with twice the vim. The shadows were suddenly upon him, his terror intensified to the point no mortal heart can bear and happily did he fall into unknowing blackness.

  “Don’t forget the servant,” snarled Garot, “we need no witnesses.” The servant that stood beside the young prince, having let him into his sleeping brother
’s chamber on the pretext of some dire situation that could not wait until morning, squeaked in terror and tried to flee, but one of the shadows engulfed him and all suddenly vanished, leaving Garot alone in the empty room. He smiled unseen into the darkness, a look of sheer triumph on his face, and then exited the way he had come. A passing guardsman eyed him oddly as he left his brother’s chambers at this strange hour, causing the Prince to sigh, for he knew the man would have to be dealt with as well which would mean more time wasted before he could get his own much needed rest.

  The blissful darkness receded and the utter terror returned, along with a good dose of despair, shame, and horror just to keep things interesting. Bayard found himself standing in the midst of a crumbling ruin in the heart of a dark and dripping wood in the grim, flat light of predawn; his eyes strayed to the wide-eyed servant and he rejoiced to know he was not alone in this horrid nightmare, but the shifting wall of wraiths that completely hemmed them in quickly stifled even this minor comfort. A great and terrible roar shook the very foundations of the ruin and sent both mortals and shadows cringing to the overgrown paving stones as a hideous bird, resembling a vulture but large as a draft horse, landed in the middle of the gathering. It leered at them in silence for some time, savoring their terror as a gourmet might a fine morsel, and then it screeched in a harsh tongue which sent the wraiths rushing upon the prisoners. Once each was completely immobilized by half a dozen of the insubstantial beings, the vulturine monstrosity said in the tongue of men, “the choice is before you, pitiable wretches that you are. Become one of my pets or food for them instead. Well?”

  The servant quivered in terror but managed to squeak defiantly, “never will I serve you! My Master is faithful even in death!”

  The monster chortled in amusement, “so faithful that he allows you to fall into such a predicament with no hope of escape? Very well, you shall have your heart’s desire. Watch well Prince, what comes of those who refuse my offer of mercy. We shall see how faithful his master truly is!” He laughed in such a dreadful way that Bayard wished he had never heard of the concept.

  The servant’s voice suddenly spoke with a confidence that belied his precarious circumstances, “do not forget who wrought you my Prince! Take comfort in the One who traded His glory for our sorrows…” The voice faded away even as the boy himself did. Bayard watched in horrified fascination as the lad began to grow misty and then vanished altogether, apparently absorbed by the shadows that held him, which now seemed far more substantial and looked almost solid with actual features in their once blank faces. He shuddered and looked with dread upon the creatures still holding him. How could he meet such an end? Yet how could he willingly become a creature such as this? The servant had seemed quite bold at the last, yet how could old fairy tales give him such courage? He glanced around at the fell gathering and suddenly began to believe that perhaps all the old myths and legends might not be as improbable as once he had thought them. If such creatures as these could walk the earth, why could not the other stories be true?

  He was suddenly a small boy again, enraptured upon his mother’s knee as she told him the strangest tale of all. Of a great and glorious King who dwelt far from the sorrows and sins of men, who abandoned it all to walk among that wretched folk. Of his own inglorious end at the hands of those he had come to succor and how he paid the price that man himself could never pay, thus ending forever the terror of death and sin for those who loved him. It was a grand tale and once he had hoped it true, but it was only a story taught to children out of custom and habit in hopes of inculcating morality in their young hearts. His family was strong and need admit no weakness or failing. In general they were good and honorable folk and needed not the mercy of some benevolent being. So he had laid it aside with the other accouterments of childhood and focused on things more befitting a young prince nearing manhood. But his sword would avail him nothing at such a moment, neither would all his lessons in history and arithmetic. The servant was no fool and had faced his end with courage, could he do any less? All this passed through his mind in the few moments during which the servant vanished and then the vile bird turned his burning gaze upon the remaining prisoner.

  “Well?” squawked the awful buzzard.

  Bayard shuddered, but felt a strange boldness and an inexplicable hope welling up inside his chest in the midst of overwhelming despair. Said he as calmly as if he were taking tea with his mother in the garden, “I will have nothing to do with you or yours sir, do your worst. I am resigned rather to die than become such as these. Fool that I have been, I did not see until this very moment the Truth until death was looking me in the eye, at least I need not die as I have lived. I commend my soul to Him who wrought it and may He have mercy upon me!” The vulture shrugged and Bayard felt cold fingers digging deep into his being and pulling it in six different directions. There was no pain, only a growing sense of thinness about his person, a whelming dark, and then an all consuming light more terrible even than the shadow creatures. The moment before he lost all sense of anything, he thought he heard the sound of galloping hooves that stopped suddenly as a horse screamed and then he knew or perhaps was, nothing but light.

  The breathless guard was flung from his horse as it spooked at the dreadful creatures gathered in the courtyard. He caught a brief glimpse of the nearly translucent prince before his vision exploded into stars as he bashed his head on the paving stones. The prince’s brother had sent him thither with all haste to see what had come of the crown prince and if there was any hope of rescue, but as he lay stunned on the moist pavement, his sluggish thoughts chastised him for so foolishly walking into an obvious trap. The shadows soon overwhelmed him too and afterwards, some of them almost appeared human. Of these, three returned to the palace to make sure the surviving prince held to his part of the bargain.

  The Royal family had gathered as usual for their communal breakfast, it was the one time of day that all of them could be prevailed upon to make an appearance before the demands of the day soon drew them apart. Garot nearly dropped his teacup as his tardy brother entered the room, as if nothing untoward had happened the previous night. He greeted his parents and sister cheerily and stared in horror at his brother who was pale as death. Neither the King and Queen nor their daughter noticed the interaction, save to reply with an automatic greeting of their own, caught up as they were in their own toast and conversation. Bayard took his accustomed place across from his brother and continued to stare in concern, wondering what was wrong with the boy. His brother’s unexpected appearance was shock enough to Garot, Bayard’s look of worry over his treacherous brother’s reaction was even more perplexing. How had he survived? Why was he not declaring him the worst sort of traitor but instead stared at him in grave concern?

  Bayard said quietly to his brother, “what ever is the matter Garot? You look as if you have seen a ghost!”

  Garot found his tongue and answered in a feeble voice, “I am just stricken dumb at seeing you so full of cheer this morning. I had thought last night might have been rather difficult for you.”

  Bayard smiled warmly, misunderstanding completely that his brother was not concerned about his health but rather with his own mental stability. Said he, “how did you know I had such a strange nightmare? But it was only a dream and though it began in the most horrible manner imaginable, the end was truly glorious and well worth the initial terror.”

  Garot eyed him in disbelief. A nightmare?! The boy should be dead or worse! And here he was eating toast as if it were the most natural thing in the world, completely oblivious to his own brother’s treachery. He gulped down his tea, mumbled something about a busy day, and hastened from the room. Four sets of perplexed eyes watched him go but soon enough returned to their own thoughts. Garot bolted from the room with as much decorum as possible and then hastened back to his own chamber to think, but there he found three gentlemen or rather creatures resembling gentlemen awaiting him. They
looked quite different from the shadowy beings he had barely glimpsed the previous night but the feeling of icy terror that squeezed his heart was certainly the same. Perhaps they could solve this desperate riddle.

  Hissed the tallest, “we are come to see that you fulfill your part of the bargain.”

  Despite his terror, the prince snarled, “what about your part of the deal?” They stared at him blankly and he burst out, “my brother walked into the breakfast room this morning as blithe as a lark and sat there eating jam and toast as if nothing worse than a bad dream had assaulted him last night! He did not even look tired!”

  The three exchanged an intrigued look and the tallest spoke again, “he is unaware that anything has happened?”

  Garot nodded dully, “he seems completely oblivious. He is neither dead nor declaring me a traitor. What happened last night?”

  Their smiles became viciousness itself as the tallest replied, “he would not throw himself upon the mercy of our master, but rather dared us to do our worst, which I assure you we did. The boy is dead whether he knows it or not. The only way such an apparition can now walk the world is if he sold his soul to our Enemy, which he seemed intent on doing with his last breath. This is quite an amusing and useful turn of events.”

  Garot yelped, “useful! Amusing? Are you mad?”

  The wraith replied with a wan smile, “such a creature cannot sit upon a throne of men. He is ineligible according to the very laws that govern creation and even our Enemy dares not defy that particular stipulation though he feels no qualms about thwarting any number of other such strictures as he sees fit. His continued presence, and obliviousness, will shield your own actions and there will be no awkward questions of treason or what came of the missing prince to deal with. It is amusing in that the creature does not know what he is yet his vile master has placed him here for some inexplicable reason and it will be great fun to watch him blunder along without a clue as to what is truly happening.”

  Garot had relaxed marginally but was still unconvinced, perhaps hoping somehow to avoid fulfilling his own part in this grim bargain. He could see the advantages of his brother’s return and seeming obliviousness but he was still unsure the villains had spoken the truth. He must have spoken this last aloud or perhaps they could just sense his doubts, for one of the creatures snarled, “if you must have proof, get him to accompany you into the Veiled Wood and see what happens, though in doing so you may alert him to things we might prefer he remain indefinitely ignorant of.”

  Garot shuddered again and asked, “what then is he?”

  The three exchanged a questioning gaze, as if wondering how much to tell, before the tallest said, “he is a ghost, an apparition, nothing more. He may appear a mortal man, but he can in nowise do anything to harm or hinder other men but can merely blather at them to repent and be good little children. He has no real power or influence in the mortal world. His vile master may have salvaged his soul from death but at what cost? A gust of wind has more ability to influence the world around it and perhaps more will in what it does! He can do nothing of his own accord, but only his fell master’s will, and there is little enough he can accomplish even so.”

  Garot was actually smiling, “my brother is a ghost and does not even know it? He thinks it all a dream! How utterly delightful! I cannot wait to see his reaction when he realizes what an impotent fool he truly is.”

  Said the tallest grimly, “do not forget your own part of the bargain, sire, in your mirth.” Garot’s amusement turned suddenly sour at the thought.

  Bayard watched his brother leave, but knew the boy would hardly be forthcoming if his despised older brother followed after to ask what was truly the matter. He exchanged a curious glance with the rest of the family and then they all returned to their eggs. He felt remarkably well for how little sleep he had actually had the previous night, not to mention the troubling dream. He ate more out of pleasure than hunger and soon excused himself to attend to his morning sword practice. As he left the breakfast room, he acquired a silent shadow that ghosted after him into the fencing yard wherein one of the guardsmen awaited the young prince. The guard eyed the servant that had followed the prince quizzically before greeting the Prince, who returned the greeting and immediately leapt into the sword forms as he warmed up. The pair stared at the lad as if he had not gone through the same ritual nearly every morning since he was old enough to hold a sword. The prince missed their odd expression as he focused on his routine but they quickly covered their surprise and drew aside to speak quietly together upon the phenomenon.

  The servant shook his head, “he seems completely ignorant of the fact that last night was not a bad dream, yet had he yielded to the Shadow we would feel it! I do not know what came of him after they had their way with me but I cannot believe he escaped unscathed.”

  The guard nodded, “had he turned to our Enemy, they would have done far worse than kill him yet neither did he escape. I saw him for a moment before my horse threw me, I could see right through him! Then they were upon me and I knew nothing more. Yet here he is as oblivious as if nothing untoward had befallen him while we are well aware of our situation.” He frowned, scratching his jaw thoughtfully, “there must be a reason for it, but I am certainly not wise enough to discern what it might be.”

  The servant grinned, “perhaps it is to frustrate our enemies as much as it perplexes us? That and perhaps to keep peace in the realm on this auspicious day, especially with so many foreign guests come to celebrate his coming of age.” They watched silently as the boy continued his warm up exercises, completely oblivious to the fact that he neither grew weary nor perspired, and that his current physical form needed no such exercise to perform at peak efficiency. He finished his routine and stood waiting patiently for his opponent. The guard nodded a farewell to his companion, drew his blade, and approached his sparring partner. The servant watched their match for a few moments and then withdrew to the keep to continue in his assigned duties. Just inside the door a firm hand settled on his shoulder and he found himself eye to eye with a frowning Garot, who studied him a moment and then motioned towards a small side chamber with his head. They entered the small room and the prince secured the door behind them.

  The prince rounded on the servant demanding, “who or what are you? Are you too completely ignorant of all that came to pass last night?”

  The servant was neither frightened nor intimidated as he once might have been by his former lord, but rather stood silent and straight as every good servant has been taught to do during awkward moments. Said he in a quiet, but quite calm and respectful manner, “I know full well that you are a traitor highness and that the blood of three men, one your own brother, stains your hands. I cannot say exactly what happened last night but it was certainly horrible and that you have thrown yourself into the sway of an evil more vile than mortals dare dream. I do not know why your brother continues in ignorance, but I and the betrayed guard know full well what it is you have wrought.”

  Snarled the prince, “so why have you not yet raised the cry of traitor against me?”

  The servant shook his head, “who would believe my word against yours? Especially when your victims still appear among the living? Besides, it is not my place or duty to expose you, Sire.”

  The boy smirked, “afraid are we?”

  The servant snorted, “you no longer have any power over me, Majesty. You have killed me already, and that is all the power one man may have over another. As to who or what I am and what my current duties are, that is none of your concern. I would look to your own soul ere it is too late.”

  The prince scowled but said quite calmly, “there are plans afoot, the least of which is of such pure brilliance your puny mind could never comprehend. Whatever you are, I know you and your ilk for the meddlers you are, I also know that you can do little to thwart a yet living man. As you have no fear of me, neither do I fear you and yours, most especially my impotent and cl
ueless brother! Very well, do whatever it is you have come for, but know that it will avail you nothing.” He stormed from the chamber and the servant silently watched him go, wondering what the boy was up to and what game his shadowy masters were truly playing.

  When Bayard finished his sword practice, wondering anew at how fresh and energetic he still felt even after what was usually a grueling workout, he found his brother waiting for him at the edge of the practice yard. Bayard handed his sword to the guard, thanked him for the practice, and then approached Garot. After the proper courtesies, the younger prince asked if the elder might not accompany him on a brief ride in the country. Bayard was taken aback at this outward show of interest from a brother who was usually distant if not completely contemptuous of his elder sibling. Perhaps whatever had unsettled him earlier had made him eager to mend the breach that had been widening between them over the last few years. Bayard readily agreed and they were soon in their saddles and venturing off into the fine weather and pleasant countryside, Bayard hoping for a renewal of their former brotherly affection, Garot hoping to confirm the strange words of his shadowy companions.

  Once they were well and truly alone, Bayard asked in quiet concern, “what happened at breakfast this morning brother? I have never seen you look so distraught. Did you too have a night of uneasy dreams?”

  Garot barely refrained from gaping outright, wondering how his brother could continue to be so blatantly blind to the truth and piqued by the concern he heard tingeing his brother’s voice. A foolish part of him wanted to mend the gap growing between them, but his far more practical side said that could never be. He gathered his wits and said as calmly as he could muster, “I too was afflicted with unsettling visions in the night and was nearly convinced I would never see you more, thus was I quite startled to see you hale and whole this morning.”

  Bayard continued to misunderstand his brother and warbled joyously, “I am glad you proposed this outing, even if it will give the Steward and half the servants apoplexy when they realize how I am ‘wasting’ the morning when I should be preparing for the festivities! Long have I mourned the widening chasm that has opened between us and I am heartened to know it need remain so no longer.” He turned then with radiant eyes upon his brother, who could only envy him his joy and despise his gullibility, as he continued. “where are we going?”

  Garot’s heart caught in his throat, how to broach the subject of their destination without arousing suspicion or a downright refusal? No man willingly entered the Veiled Wood that was perpetually wrapped in mist and shadow! It was no natural forest, but rather a relic of ancient days, steeped in magic and myth, where anything might happen and often did. Time did not run in a straight course, if it passed at all in that place and anything out of legend might lurk within its confines and certainly things for which even the stories had no name, for no mortal had ever looked upon them and returned to tell the tale. How could he convince his brother to even enter the shadows of such a place on a day when he shouldn’t be riding at all? The choice was taken from him however when Bayard softly mused, “I know it sounds mad, but as I gazed out on the world from my bedchamber this morning, I felt my heart drawn to the Veiled Wood.” He stared at his brother in consternation, “why of all places would I want to go there, especially on such a day?” He frowned, “will you come with me?”

  Garot snorted a laugh, “it is a mad scheme, but why not? It will be nice to escape the formality and chaos of the palace for a few hours before we are both reduced to fashionable figureheads for the remainder of the celebration, and if nothing else, at least no one will think to look for us there.” They exchanged an eager grin and urged their horses to a faster pace, unwittingly returning to the easy friendship they had known in their boyhood, before jealousy had stirred in Garot’s heart and mortally wounded his affection for his brother and destroyed his innocence. Half an hour later they sat their horses on the brink of the Wood. The creatures tossed their heads, swished their tails, and stomped their feet in agitation, uneasy in the presence of the uncanny wood. The boys dismounted, secured their mounts well away from the offending trees, and then exchanged a zealous grin, feeling as bold and invincible as they had not in many years. Then they plunged into the trees.

  It was an ancient wood, perhaps as old as the world. The trees were widely scattered and towered overhead like the pillars in the hall of a great king. Mist carpeted the floor and only a perpetual twilight lingered under the boughs, even at midday in the height of summer; a tomblike hush fell over the Wood as the trespassers violated that sacred ground, but it was not the silence of emptiness but rather that of watchful eyes warding their secrets from the uninitiated. Their original zeal was soon buried under the weight of those unseen watchers and their disapprobation. They exchanged a wary look and of one accord darted back out into the brilliant light of a mortal day, leaving that tomb of immortal secrets again to itself. But Garot had had his proof and was even certain his brother had noticed nothing but the uneasy feeling of unseen eyes upon them. Garot was not sure exactly what to expect, but somehow that unearthly wood could not abide whatever mask veiled Bayard’s true form, even from himself, under the mortal sun. Amidst the gloom of those ancient trees, the façade had melted away to reveal that his brother was no longer the hapless youth he appeared, yet neither was he the ghost Garot had expected. He still looked very much as he always had, but all lit through with a strange inner light, as if he were a lamp with a flame at its heart. His boyishness had matured to the full strength of manhood yet with the immortal youth and vitality of a little boy. Humor and wisdom and joy sparkled in his eyes and radiated from every feature and he carried himself with a confidence that defied his boyish ignorance.

  Garot shuddered at the memory and hastened back to the waking world as much to be rid of the vision as to escape the oppression of the Wood. Garot stood panting beside his horse as Bayard looked wistfully back at the distant trees, not even breathing hard. Snapped the younger, “what is so fascinating about that place even after it sent you scurrying from its shadows like a spooked squirrel?”

  Bayard directed his attention back to his brother, a far off look in his eyes, “I do not know? I certainly felt out of place there, a veritable intruder into things far deeper and older than I, yet I also feel a kinship with that place, strange as it seems. It feels strangely like home.”

  “Do not be ridiculous, child!” laughed an unfamiliar voice like a hundred joyous bells, continued she, “no mortal can feel at home in the Veiled Wood, it is completely incongruous to mortal flesh.”

  They turned wide eyes upon the speaker and saw they had not left the Wood unaccompanied, for a troop of one of the elfin races stood loosely about them with a very grand lady in their midst, it was she who had spoken. They bowed awkwardly in their surprise and she laughed all the more, continued she, “now would you be so kind as to give me directions to the Royal Residence hereabouts? I and my company are invited to the ball this evening to commemorate the crown prince’s coming of age.”

  Garot gaped like a fish, completely overcome by the beauty and grace of the brilliant creature before him, but Bayard seemed totally unaffected as he said politely, “greetings fair Lady, we would happily accompany you back to the palace, for we are the very sons of the Sovereign of this land.”

  She turned keen eyes upon the pair, studied them for a moment with her predatory gaze, and said with a brittle laugh, “how fortunate. Lead on good sirs.” Though she did not seem in the least impressed with their bearing or appearance for all their proclamations of royal heritage, but then what was a mortal King but dust, even at the height of his glory, to one who might live as long as Time itself? They hastily mounted their horses and led the small party back to the palace where they were received with the greatest awe and reverence, for few mortal men had ever seen any of the fairy folk under the mortal sun. The young princes were welcomed back for another reason, as the Steward and his minions had
all but despaired of the festivities, for if the lads did not return soon all would be ruined if they were not assiduously prepared. So it was that even as their horses clattered into the courtyard, the servants grabbed hold of the erring lads and bore them bodily off to garb them in unrivaled splendor for the night’s celebration. Bayard wished helplessly to return to the gloom and oppression of the wood as the inexorable host fell upon him and groomed, dandied, and stuffed him into stiff and frilly garb more befitting a stodgy noble widow trying to win an aging lord rather than the young heir to the crown. He silently mused if facing the shadow creatures of his nightmare would have been less frightening.

  Garot’s only comfort was that his three vile accomplices were also forced to wear similarly horrendous fashions or appear starkly out of place amongst the finery of the gathered courtiers and foreign lords and ladies come to celebrate Bayard’s coming of age, an irony which was lost on none of the foursome who knew what had truly transpired the previous night. Garot hissed contentedly to one of the wraiths, “what would all these fops and dandies think if they knew the star of the evening had not lived to truly come of age? And worse, he is not even aware of it himself yet must suffer through these mawkish festivities as if he had! It is beautifully ironic! I did not know his fell master could be so cruel!” The shadows shared his mirth and laughed the more at the ignorant fool clad even more foppishly than themselves. Garot glimpsed the odd servant and guard occasionally through the course of the evening, though they kept a surreptitious eye on the oblivious prince and eyed Garot’s vile companions with malice, nothing more transpired with the uncanny pair.

  During the various courses of the extensive meal and the dances that followed, eligible ladies from all across the known world made their presence and interest, or at least the interest of their fathers, known to Bayard for he would one day need to choose a bride from among such noble stock, at least if things had been different. None courted his interest more than the Lady of the Wood, who continually used her numerous charms and wiles to win his heart for her own, though to her continuing astonishment he never seemed to show her even the slightest interest, at least beyond that due a guest of the court at a royal function. No mortal man should be able to withstand her persona and the magic thereabouts but the boy continued as if impervious. Flummoxed and frustrated, she approached his younger brother and was glad to see him obviously smitten from almost the first moment of this second meeting. He gazed at her with glazing, dreamy eyes and a transfixed smile gracing his gaping mouth; much better. She frowned in consternation at the crown prince who was chatting with a gaggle of silly girls by one of the doors opening into the gardens, at least their charms were as inefficient as her own.

  Said a snide voice at her shoulder, drawing her suddenly back from her perplexity, “having trouble charming that particular snake my Lady?”

  She turned a villainous gaze upon the impudent fellow who would dare address her thus, but started back in horror when she realized it was no man that intruded himself upon her. “What do you want, shadow?” grated she.

  A dyspeptic smile appeared on his face as he continued, “I just want to know what you are about madam? My master has his own plans for this meager fiefdom and I would not have you interfering in affairs you know nothing about, but perhaps we can be of mutual benefit to one another.”

  A distasteful look crossed her porcelain features but was quickly hidden as she said, “I am looking to extend my demesnes and if I can bewitch the future King, perhaps the Wood can one day cover all his lands.”

  The shadow’s smile grew less painful and far more sincere, “then I think we can be of use to one another. My master has decried that this land and its people must soon be swallowed by the Shadow in whatever guise it might take: tyranny, enslavement, full acceptance of evil, or destruction, it matters not. I assume with your own acquisition of this land that its current residents will no longer trouble the mortal sphere?” Her smile was answer enough. He continued, “excellent, then I shall tell you of how things stand at the moment in this vile realm. Your charms will not work because your target is dead.”

  She stared at him as if he were mad and he smiled at her astonishment, “he does not even know it himself. His own brother betrayed him to the Shadow last night. I consumed him myself yet he thinks it only a nightmare.” He held up a hand and gazed at it appreciatively before continuing, “as such he cannot ever hope to sit upon the throne in his own turn and neither will your meager flirtations arouse an ardor that died with his mortal flesh. I do not know why he has returned, most especially in ignorance of his own fate, but as far as our plans are concerned, he is no longer a factor. You do well to seduce the younger brother, who has promised much to my master in his own plots against his brother, adding another wedge between them can only make things more interesting. I assume once the crown and kingdom are rightfully yours the unfortunate King shall meet with a mysterious end?” She smiled wickedly at him and then they began to plot in earnest while Garot looked on uncomprehending in his bewitchment with the lady. The ever vigilant servant and guard looked on uneasily.

  In the wee hours of the morning, at last the wearied partygoers retired to their quarters. The Elfin Lady had continued her attentions to Bayard, if only to make his brother jealous and more entranced by her charms. The youth was nigh unto fratricide by the time all finally retired wearily to bed, and Garot was hard pressed to remind himself that he had already killed his brother so there really was no practical point in attempting it again. He withdrew with his shadowy companions to plot in private while the unnamed menials of the castle invaded the abandoned venue to commence the cleanup.

  Bayard found himself pacing restlessly in the gardens, feeling neither weary nor infatuated as was typical after such an evening, especially with the attentions that had been heaped upon him, yet neither was he disgusted as he felt he should be at the games played by flirtatious young ladies and their scheming relatives. Instead, he just felt a contentment and a peace that passed all understanding, a feeling he knew could not be rooted in the fleeting mortal world. He also sensed that he had some important duty to be about and would do so eagerly, if only he could determine what it was. There had been other little strangenesses throughout the day, little oddities that should have been otherwise but were not in themselves reason for concern, but all together they made him uneasy.

  Such functions always exhausted him yet he felt ready at that moment to climb a mountain if one were available. He ceased his pacing and gazed questioningly up at the stars, envying them their confidence and full knowledge of their course through the heavens, wondering if he would ever know such certainty. He sighed heavily and turned to face the intruder he sensed approaching from the adjacent ballroom. He could not hide the quizzical smile that quirked his lips as a certain servant and guardsman approached, oblivious to the dark looks of the other servants setting the ballroom to rights at their backs. With unspoken accord, they meandered deeper into the darkened gardens where they might speak in private. Bayard noted none of them stumbled in the gloom though there was neither torch nor moon to light the way.

  Finally alone save for the stars and a few flitting moths, the Prince halted and turned to study his companions with interest. “You were there,” said he at last, in a voice hardly audible. He turned questioning eyes upon them, “it was not a dream then?”

  “No my lord,” said the servant quietly, “the nightmare was quite real.”

  Bayard nodded thoughtfully but arched an eyebrow, “you need not be so formal my friend, at least when there are no appearances to maintain, we have but one Lord now.” He frowned, “how do I know that?”

  The guard grinned like a naughty little boy anticipating some new mischief, “you know far more than you think, but your mind has not yet wrapped itself around the possibilities. But you have been suspicious for most of the day, have you not?”

  The former prince nodded slowly, a glint in his
eye and a slight smile on his lips, “yes, today has been different, nothing I could quite put a finger on or name specifically but so many little things that all added together said something strange or terrible had taken place.” He turned to the servant, joy and horror touching his voice, “I watched what came of you for your defiance yet your steadfastness and confidence at the last stirred thoughts and hopes I long thought buried or forgotten.” He reached out a grateful hand and squeezed the man’s shoulder, “you saved my soul from utter night.”

  The servant glanced awkwardly at his feet, shook his head, and returned his gaze to that of the late prince, “nay sir, it was our Master and He alone that can do that, but I am heartened to hear that you understood at the last. I never did take you for a believing man, sir, and feared greatly for you last night. Come morning I was both astonished, joyous, and perplexed as to what your presence here and complete ignorance of what had come to pass might mean.”

  Bayard shook his head in remembrance, “at first I thought it all a dream, a horrid and glorious vision of the night. The beginning was worse than anything I could imagine but afterward…” He trailed off in awe and wonder, finding no words to express what he had seen and known after the darkness consumed him utterly, but the wonderment written on the faces of his companions said they too had seen it and he need not, and likely could not, describe it. His smile was joy itself, “I am glad it was not a dream.” His voice became practical again as he drew the others back from climes of utmost joy, “but why did I remain in ignorance?”

  The question was merely rhetorical, but then he remembered the guard’s suggestion that he knew more than he thought if only he could wrestle his mind into accepting the strangeness of this new reality in which he found himself. After a moment of careful thought he answered his own query, “the schemes of our enemies would have benefited much from the sudden chaos surrounding my mysterious disappearance or if I had returned and acted strangely, knowing myself something other than what I had always been. With the worst of the celebration over and having had time to grow used to the idea that my mortal days are truly at an end, now we can continue to move forward as if nothing untoward has happened and the entire Kingdom can continue on as ever it has, oblivious to what has passed in the night.” He turned a questioning gaze upon his two companions, “my only remaining question is: what exactly are we?”

  The guard and the servant exchanged a wondering look and turned back to the prince, shaking their heads. Said the guard, “we have as little idea as you, save that we knew last night had been no dream and that there is some nefarious plot afoot, imperiling all the Kingdom and we were sent to stop it. Your brother, his three vile companions, and now the Lady of the Wood are all involved.”

  The prince nodded and said with quiet certainty, “and stop them we will.”

  All eyes were suddenly drawn in surprise and horror to some stifled giggling behind one of the nearby shrubs, their acute night vision easily penetrating the shadows. Bayard shivered, wondering what the spy had overheard and what was to be done about it, especially as the person in question was his own sister. He called her out into the open and she sheepishly complied, chagrined that her mirth had been overheard. Said she without preamble, “what strange language were you three gabbing in? I have never heard such goings on!” The three visibly relaxed as they realized the girl had overheard them but apparently had been unable to understand them, keeping her ignorant of the plots afoot in the Kingdom and of their own precarious fate.

  Bayard said sternly, “Kara, what are you doing out here at this hour?”

  She raised her chin and stared at him in an imperious manner, every inch the offended lady, said she, “that is none of your business sir, but I could ask you the same. I was curious as to why you withdrew to the garden when all sensible folk sought their beds and then you chose to fraternize with a servant and a mere guardsman to boot! I smelled an intrigue and hastened to have my part in it. You aren’t planning to marry that horrid Lady of the Wood are you?”

  Bayard smiled in spite of his irritation, he had always had a soft spot in his heart for his intrepid little sister and she was far too young and naïve to yet be involved in the treachery now stalking the court, of which his murder had been but the beginning. And he could not but agree with her pert assertions about the Lady of the Wood, for there was something he found quite unsettling about her and he had seen Garot’s apparent infatuation; she would certainly bear watching. He schooled his voice and features to blandness, not that she could see his face in the dark, but said, “you needn’t worry about me marrying anyone, at least any time soon. And as for my choice of companions, that is my affair as your presence here is yours, but you are wise to be wary of that elfin lady and I will do the same.”

  She harrumphed, “Garot seems quite taken with her.”

  “Yes,” said Bayard uneasily, a new thought occurring to him. Whatever his strange proclivities, he also knew he could no longer lay claim to the crown which left Garot heir to the throne and if that bewitching lady won his heart, she could claim the Kingdom for her own. The others came to the same understanding and exchanged an uneasy gaze. Continued he, “that would be terrible indeed, but come Kara, why are you so intent on having a part in an intrigue?”

  She pouted sweetly, “life is ever so dull for a princess! You boys get to go riding off whenever the spirit takes you and can practice the sword and learn history. I get to learn etiquette and dancing and delicate handicrafts. I want an adventure, I want to do something that matters.”

  Bayard nodded soberly, “you may have more adventure in your life than you will ever want again and sooner than you might think. There are indeed plots afoot at the moment, some vile indeed. I would advise you to keep your distance from all of it.” She looked on the verge of protesting but he raised a hand to silence her as he continued, “adventure will come to you my dear, never doubt that, but if you go meddling in affairs not your own there are many who would trod you underfoot and not even notice they had done so. You shall have your adventure, but if people think you a threat or a nuisance you shan’t live to see it. Trust no one with this Kara, most especially Garot and his three vile companions and that dreadful Lady, save perhaps myself and my two companions. If you discover something or are ever in danger, summon us, no matter how futile it seems, and we shall come to your aide.” She stared at him, though whether in disbelief or affront or eagerness or all three he could not tell. He finished by chivying her to bed, at which she did not balk over much, and then returned his attention to his companions.

  “You think the crown must pass to her?” asked the servant at last.

  The guard shook his head, “it certainly cannot pass to the surviving prince, at least with the blood of his brother on his hands and his fellowship with evil. I wonder what he promised those wraiths in exchange for disposing of you, Sire?”

  Bayard shuddered, “I am not sure I want to know, but it cannot be good. How are we to deal with this situation if we cannot physically thwart the intentions of mortal men?” This last thought had suddenly occurred to him and he knew it true even as he spoke it.

  The others shook their heads and at last the servant spoke, “we must watch and advise as we may, perhaps we can awaken others to the danger that they might work against our mortal foes.” A grim smile grew on his lips, “we are however not helpless against those three shadowy villains or the Lady and her ilk.” The others smiled in comprehension as their task suddenly became clear and how it was to be accomplished took form in their minds. Of all their foes, only Garot lay beyond their ability to physically influence, but they could still speak with him upon the matter, though Bayard doubted he would listen to such advice. They soon ghosted back to their accustomed duties and places, hoping to avoid any unwanted notice or comment upon their unseemly behavior.

  Bayard found himself alone in his quarters, glanced dismissively at the bed and knew he no longer required sleep, whi
ch left him the remainder of the night to think over all that the day had revealed. His heart wanted to quiver in fear for this threat to his realm, but a deep confidence rooted firmly in a Truth that was before and would outlast Time itself held him firm. Gone were all the doubts, petty thoughts, selfish desires, and nagging fears that had plagued him only the day before. He hardly knew what he now was and knew even less of the Master he had sworn to serve with his dying breath, but felt such an unshakable confidence and eager hope, that he wondered at his former disbelief. No wonder the servant had died with such confidence, how had he never seen it before? But at least he had not died blind and now he had all eternity before him, in which he might serve his new Lord in ways he could not even yet imagine. The thought filled him with an eagerness and joy he could ill contain.

  “Put out that horrid light!” snarled a grating voice.

  Bayard turned suddenly towards the door where an inky black stain was seeping through the crack and from whence the demand had come. Only then did he realize what the intruder was talking about, for his own being was alight with a blaze of white fire that one could hardly look upon, most especially a servant of evil. Unsure exactly how he did it, he somehow veiled the terrible glare even as he continued to stare at the shadow that had invaded his quarters. As the light dimmed, the creature felt comfortable in fully entering the bedchamber and soon resolved itself into the tallest of Garot’s three shadowy friends. Sneered the wraith, “so you have finally discovered it was not a bad dream after all?”

  “What do you want?” asked the boy without fear or hesitation.

  The creature smiled grimly, “I had hoped to terrify you for my own amusement, but it seems you have finally realized the truth of the matter. Now I am merely curious.”

  Bayard stared stonily at the insolent creature, “you invade my quarters and have the audacity to ask after my affairs?”

  The creature snorted in amusement, “what use have we for such paltry mortal concepts such as buildings and rooms? As for your private affairs, I could care less, as they cannot much avail you. You are no threat to my plans, merely a nuisance. I was rather more curious about your own acceptance of what has happened.”

  The boy eyed him curiously in turn, for the first time truly comprehending the strange new world in which he now dwelt. Here was a creature that had experience in this intriguing sphere and for a moment he felt something of kinship to the disreputable man, but then he recalled that his companion may perhaps be a creature beyond mortal experience, but he was also sworn utterly to evil. They might exchange a few superficial words upon professional matters, but in the end they had no more in common than light with darkness. Said he quietly, “sir, I hardly know what it is I have begun.”

  The creature smirked, “no doubt, as only this morning you thought it all a bad dream! How can your Master leave you in such utter ignorance and expect you to serve him effectively, unless he means to be intentionally cruel? But I am unsure which would be worse: serving an incompetent or someone who is wantonly cruel.”

  Bayard cocked an eyebrow, “as your own master is the latter I suppose you should have firsthand knowledge of it, but as for my Master, you know nothing of the matter so do not speak in ignorance of things you little understand. I may be the least of His servants, but that does not mean I doubt Him or His wisdom. Do not bother wasting words trying to undermine my soul, I am no mortal creature still vulnerable to such doubts and fears.”

  The creature smiled, genuinely this time, and said approvingly, “so there is fire in you my Prince, excellent! This shall be an interesting game after all. After last night I thought things might prove rather dull.”

  The boy’s voice was cold and sharp as hard steel, “this is no game creature, these are the lives and souls of an entire Kingdom and I will oppose you with every fiber in my being. What then are you?”

  The vile man smiled eagerly but it was tinged with malice, “I do not take kindly to threats boy, but I am glad to have a worthy opponent. Last night I mistook you for a simpering coward, but then the fickle mortal wretch that you were stood no chance against such as I.” He gazed approvingly at his empty hands in the firelight and smiled in delight, “what am I? Thanks to you and your two foolish friends, I am at last something besides a Shadow.” A flash of revulsion crossed the boy’s face, the creature savored it, and then continued, “yes, I was like you once, a weak and pathetic mortal man. Unlike you, I did not refuse the offer given by the Great One but embraced it fully and for a time became a Shade, a shapeless bit of blackness lurking in the corners and doing what little mischiefs fell to my lot. Eventually I worked my way up in my master’s favor and became a Shadow, still a bit of blackness but at least with shape and eyes. Such you remember from last night I am sure, for I am one of those that consumed your very life and being, and in doing so I have become a Wraith. Still a being of Shadow, but one that can move about freely among mortal men in a visage similar to their own, thus can I work even greater mischief and tragedy among them!”

  “You are not unopposed,” said the boy stonily, aghast that his own life could fuel such evil.

  The menace laughed heartily, “of course not you simpleton! Your wretched kind has been meddling in the affairs of my master since he first convinced a mortal soul to serve him thus!”

  Bayard turned away for a moment to regain his composure at the rebuke, reminding himself that he need not fear this creature, whatever its age or power. The creature’s hearty laughter drew the boy’s gaze suddenly back to the villain as the Wraith continued, “you don’t even know what you are, do you? You have a hard enough time comprehending that you are dead, that this world that was once your own no longer holds a place for you, that you are a creature out of place and time, adrift in a sea of possibility with neither compass nor star to guide you! How perfectly delightful!” He continued to laugh and guffaw at his nemesis’s naiveté, but gradually regained some semblance of composure. He schooled his face to calmness but his lips kept twitching in involuntary mirth as he finally said, “I will tell you a little then, in hopes that you will answer my original question.”

  The boy frowned in incomprehension and the creature was again consumed by uncontrolled laughter, but at last he reclaimed his tongue and went on, “why would I, your sworn enemy, try and enlighten one such as you? Why would I care to know your reaction to this strange new world you inhabit? I am not sure, curiosity perhaps? It is not kindness or a wish to be helpful, but perhaps that is the one thing I miss about my current occupation: it leaves little room for companionship or warmth of any kind. My masters and colleagues are all out for their own advancement and power; failure is cruelly punished. I do not regret my choice, but having once been human, I yet crave friendship and good conversation from time to time. Your kind are perhaps the only ones I may safely indulge in this minor vice with, for you will not betray me to my grim masters or my enemies within our own ranks, neither have you exchanged your humanity for raw power. Mortals would have no comprehension of such matters so I am stuck with you.”

  The boy stared at him aghast and the creature suddenly realized how foolish he had been, exposing himself thus to anyone, for if his own masters heard of his infidelity, they would soon make an end of him. The boy seemed to understand this and said quietly, “is there no hope of redemption for such as you? If you regret what you have done, can you not escape?”

  The creature eyed the shadows for a moment, hoping there was not an unseen spy listening to this compromising conversation before he continued, “I said I did not regret my decision, I repeat that I just miss certain aspects of my former humanity, that is all. And no, there is no way out for either of us, the decision cannot be changed once we are free of our mortal constraints. You have freely chosen the Light and I the Dark, we shall see who is triumphant at the last but our side in this war for reality cannot now change. As to what you are, you and your kind are the Master’s answer to Wraiths, Shadows, and
even Shades. You are men beyond death, sworn to the Master, who have agreed to return to the mortal world to oppose such villains as myself. In the tongue of men, you are called Messengers. Now, what of your part of the bargain?”

  Bayard stared at the creature in surprise, wondering if he could trust this Servant of Lies, but what was there to trust or distrust? How could his description of his feelings relating to the whole affair influence any one or thing for good or ill? In truth, he knew what the creature truly sought, a brief glimpse into the world he had willingly abandoned for a life of power, greed, darkness, despair, and fear. He wished to remember what it was to have been a man, who still had some glimmer of hope before him rather than an eternity enslaved to the dark. Bayard took pity on his wretched foe, also knowing he too yearned to share the tumultuous emotions and experiences of the last day, for he too had once been a mortal man, but whereas his companion lived among dust and shadows, joy was ever at his own side. At last he said with a heavy sigh, “what then would you have me tell? You saw for yourself my terror and despair at the last, my dying plea for mercy, the ending of it all, and after there are not words in the mortal tongue to describe what befell me nor would you, a servant of death and evil, understand.”

  The creature shook its head, “nay, nay, I care nothing for that, it was quite obvious what you endured in your last hours and after; I can hardly stomach the idea! Tell me rather of this strange day, what it was like to awake once more in your own bed, an utterly changed creature yet hardly aware of it. That alone, of all your ordeal, has the makings of a good tale, or at least a mildly interesting one. I must say, the irony was quite delicious in and of itself.”

  He told then of his awakening, his remembrance of a horrid dream with a glorious ending. Of the little oddities he had encountered throughout the day and he laughed heartily with his companion at the idea of a coming of age celebration for one already dead. Finally he told of the night dark garden and his brief envy of the stars, the rest of the tale was not one he could share with such a fiend. Said the grim creature after the boy trailed off and said no more, “you are leaving something out, but I suppose you know that and will not trouble yourself on my account lest you betray the confidence of others. Keep your secrets, they matter nothing to me. So how are you going to save your realm?” The boy smiled knowingly but only shook his head. “Bah!” scoffed the villain, “I do not even know why I wasted my time this night!”

  The boy said quietly, “because you truly do regret your decision and some part of you still yearns for that which shall never again be yours, save in brief moments when you can forget your lot and live through the experiences of others.”

  The thing shrieked in agony and rage, as if a mortally stricken cat of remarkable size, and leapt upon the boy. Taken completely unawares, lulled into complacency by this strange conversation, Bayard stood little chance of blocking the dagger that buried itself suddenly in his heart. A blinding flash sent the attacker reeling and when he could look again, the boy was gone. He smiled to himself, melted into a pool of shadow, and slithered out of the room. Regretful indeed! He was actually digging for information that might aid him in countering whatever these fools were planning, at least that is what he told himself.

  Out in the garden, the moon had finally risen and illuminated the creeping mists with a weird glow while the flowers and statuary and shrubs cast strange shadows upon the walls and pathways. One patch of mist seemed almost solid and perhaps glowed a little more brightly than the rest, but there were none there to see but an old owl blinking sleepily in a willow by the pond and he kept his own counsel. The recalcitrant patch of mist soon groaned, sat up, and revealed itself to be a young man apparently born of the mystical union of mist and moonlight, but this was no romantic tale out of ancient days but rather the return of the wayward prince after his rather embarrassing exit. He glanced at his softly glowing form and wryly schooled his being to opacity, wondering when he would become used to this new occupation, hoping it would not take all eternity to do so. He paced the familiar old paths for some hours, simply enjoying the night and its peace, going over all that had happened to him of late.

  Wherever it was that he had vanished to in the interim, it was hard to leave, to return to this mortal sphere with all its resident doubt and sorrow, but he knew if he did not return, things would go badly for the entire Kingdom and perhaps beyond; besides, he knew it pleased his Master and he knew no greater joy. Someday he could go back to that other place and not return, but he was starting to find his new occupation both intriguing and exhilarating as he had never before found even his greatest enjoyments in waking life.

  A certain servant found him wandering amidst the rose bushes planted by a Queen a hundred years dead as a faint pink light bloomed in the east. Said the lad, “the Lady of the Veiled Wood has asked you and your brother to accompany her on a short tour of her country this morning, my Lord.”

  Bayard knew by the lad’s formality that he thought himself watched so he replied in like manner, “you may tell her Ladyship that I would be honored to accompany her on such an outing.” Truly he was drawn to that strange wood and wondered at the attraction.

  The Wraith that had visited him last evening approached as the servant departed, a highly amused grin on his face, “so you shall accompany your brother then? It should be an interesting ride, especially to one of your proclivities.”

  “You think to just walk up and resume our conversation as if nothing has happened?” asked the boy just as blandly.

  The other laughed, “what else should I do Highness? I have already killed you in truth, what is one more skirmish between such dear foes, eh? It might be the first time but will be far from the last, as I am sure you will also return the favor in days to come let us not be bitter upon the matter, shall we? I thought perhaps you had a question you had wished to ask last evening but never had the chance.”

  The lad nodded, “I doubt you will answer me, but what has my brother offered your master for your part in all of this?”

  The fiend laughed heartily, “you are correct there lad, that is strictly between the parties that struck the bargain and those sent to see it fulfilled. Do you have a question less fraught with controversy you’d rather ask instead?”

  The boy smiled ruefully, “actually, I was wondering why I feel such a strange affinity for that Cursed Wood. I felt it both when the subject of this ride was broached and also yesterday when my brother thought it a fine place for our morning outing, though I begin to wonder what his own motives were.”

  The Wraith answered, “that is a good question and happily one I can answer. Do you know what the Wood is?”

  The boy shook his head and said, “I only know the old stories: that it is a place where Time moves differently, if at all, that it is home to all manner of strange and fantastic creatures, that it is a place far older than any Kingdom of men.”

  The other nodded, “truth, at least in part, or as good an answer as mortal men can contrive. It is a strange place, where both the laws of space and time are bent and flow far differently than in the outside world. There are places there where Eternity touches the mortal sphere and that is why you are drawn to it, for it is your true home, not this wretched mortal plane. It is like calling to like. It is a place neither consumed by the Shadow nor claimed by your Master, but rather ruled and inhabited by many races and creatures foreign to the sensibilities of men. They have no use for the mortal race and avoid them as a rule. Neither do they have an interest in the ongoing war between the Light and Dark and so too do they have little interest in creatures such as ourselves, mere foot soldiers in that ancient war. They wish to dwell apart and live as they would, little troubling themselves with the affairs of the outside world.”

  Asked the boy, “what was my brother’s intent yesterday in going thither?”

  The other barked a laugh, “he needed to reassure himself that you were truly dead.” The boy frowned
and the creature continued, “we cannot hide our true forms in that place, it strips away the mirage and reveals us for what we are.”

  The boy nodded in comprehension and wondered what the Lady would think of such a revelation, but then the way she had spoken so eagerly with this creature and his companions at the ball likely meant she already knew his true nature, so what was the point in getting them alone in the Wood? A cold fist seemed to squeeze his heart as he wondered what effect that place, combined with the Lady’s close proximity, might have upon a mortal mind and heart. Garot had seemed besotted with the Lady last evening and she had barely paid him any notice, this could be a very dangerous ride for the unwary youth. Said he at last, “what if she manages to capture his heart and draw it away from your fell master?”

  The fiend shrugged, “we have an understanding and if she becomes treacherous, we shall deal with her as we must.”

  Bayard said with widening eyes, “you are looking for an excuse to invade the Wood in your master’s name.”

  The creature smiled but it was far from cheerful, “excellent young one, and you thought your puny Kingdom was of any interest to my master when he could have the entire Wood to call his own. A pity such a mind could not see the wisdom in serving my master!”

  Bayard said coldly, “I have found my place and am happy therein.”

  The other laughed loudly, raised an arm in farewell, and vanished with a hearty, “enjoy your ride.”

  As Bayard returned to the palace, the guard and servant met him at the door, each wearing an identical and very disapproving frown. He stopped and stared at them, “whatever is the matter?”

  The guard shook his head, “why were you trading words with that fiend?”

  Bayard smiled in spite of himself, “that was nothing! The creature invaded my quarters last night and we talked for some time upon various matters.”

  The servant gasped, “what is he after?”

  Bayard shook his head, “I am unsure, but I rather pity the poor creature.”

  The guard said in reproving tones, “we are enemies, forever separated by a chasm that cannot be crossed. Whatever his intentions they cannot be good, even if they appear benign.”

  Bayard frowned, “are we capable of betraying sensitive information to our enemies? Last night I knew he was looking for something, but found no words to continue when I neared the place in the story that might be of even the least bit of interest to such a plotter. He seemed disappointed but not surprised. This morning he told me of a supposed plot to betray the Lady of the Wood and invade her realm. I doubt this tale to be of any merit but rather a distraction from all that is afoot in our own Realm. He is a servant of the Liar after all.”

  The uneasiness vanished from his companions as they pondered his words and felt the truth within their inmost beings. As long as they understood the creatures were undeniably evil and liars as often as not, such conversations could do little harm and as they were unable to speak of delicate matters to the servants of their enemy, their words could be of no benefit to their foes. But ever they must be wary of being distracted or led astray by lies or suspicions planted by creatures that were slaves of untruth, while they might exchange fair words together, they were at heart bitter enemies and this they must remember above all else.

  Just then Garot came striding up, clad for a day in the saddle, he stared stonily at the menials who smiled amusedly at one another, bowed to the princes, and returned to their duties, leaving the brothers alone. Said the younger, “are you ready for today’s ride?” His sneer said rather, “come little fool, are you still so blind as to not know what you are? I cannot wait to see your discomfiture before the entire party!”

  Bayard said quietly, “I will accompany you brother, but this Lady, no matter how fair, cannot mean well towards any of us. She will use you for her own ends and then toss you aside like a ruined doll.”

  Garot hissed, “you only want her for yourself!”

  Bayard eyed him stonily, “I am not so blind as you think me Garot, I know it was no dream and I know your part in it.” He said more quietly and glanced at the ground for a moment before looking seriously at his brother, “neither am I capable of claiming either a crown or a lady’s affections, for such matters belong to a world that is no longer my own.” His voice hardened, “but that does not mean I can stand aside and watch this realm be swallowed up by Shadow. That woman will use you to lay claim to the Kingdom and then cast you aside when your use is at an end. Ware her seducing spells, especially in the shadow of her own Wood.”

  Garot’s smile was chill as a winter morn, “how then will you have your revenge brother? You cannot very well accuse me of murder while yet you walk the castle.”

  Bayard shook his head, “nay, it is not my place to expose you for the traitor you are, but rather to urge you to change your ways before the entire Kingdom suffers because of your lust for power. What is it you promised these fiends in exchange for their aid?”

  Garot’s icy smile slipped and something nigh unto terror entered his eyes but he quickly buried the emotion and said with only a hint of a tremor in his voice, “as you have bartered your soul for this meager existence, so have I promised mine, but rather than becoming an ineffectual ghost, I shall become a creature truly powerful. I shall reign forever as the Shadow King and all mortal hearts will quail in fear at the merest hint of my name and I shall expand the borders of my dread empire to encompass the entire earth.”

  If the boy had been hoping to inspire dread and horror in his brother, he was deeply disappointed, for Bayard only nodded thoughtfully and said quite mildly, “a picturesque story, a perfect setting for an epic tale but you forget your master is not unopposed, and even if you are a King in title, you would still be but a slave to his will.”

  The younger sneered, “more a slave than you?”

  Bayard smiled warmly, “we are all slaves to something Garot, I have found the only true freedom, slave though I be. We can choose whose chains to wear and those of my Master are light indeed whereas yours shall drag you down into eternal darkness and despair. I may be a slave yet also am I a son. You will be but a pawn to be used as necessary and then cast aside into utter darkness.”

  For a moment Bayard saw doubt flicker in his brother’s eyes but then his anger flared forth and he scorned, “bold words for a ghost! What know you of matters beyond your ken? Your master could not see fit to deliver you from death, why should I trust him to likewise rescue me?”

  Bayard said in wistful memory, “death is the lot of all mortals, why should I be spared when my Master Himself bore it upon our behalf when He need never have known either mortality or death? And who am I to say when I should perish or how? Will He not use this evil for His good, and the good of all the Kingdom? What is my life to that? Nay, it is an honor to die in His service whereas you shall perish for your own selfish goals and find no gain thereby.”

  Fury raged across his brother’s face, but he swallowed his wrath and merely snarled, “we shall be late and it will not do to keep such a Lady waiting.”

  Bayard bowed and followed his brother towards the stables where they found their escort waiting impatiently in their saddles. The elder prince eyed the various servants and guards set to accompany the party and saw the look of delighted scorn that radiated from his brother’s countenance. If he went along with this, his identity would be revealed to the entire company yet he could not allow his brother to ride alone into those grim Woods in the presence of this nefarious Lady. Said he at last, “I do not think we need so many attendants, brother. Let us dismiss all but a few of our most trusty retainers, after all, if things go ill an army would not avail us in the Wood.”

  Garot snarled silently but could not gainsay his brother, especially when the majority of the underlings looked quite eager to be dismissed back to their regular duties rather than spend the day gallivanting about that cursed Wood and risking their lives thereby. In the end only four
underlings accompanied the young princes: two of Garot’s shadowy companions and Bayard’s fellow Messengers. Garot growled to his brother as they clattered out of the courtyard, “you might have won this time brother, but the day is still young. I am sorely disappointed not to have seen the reaction of your beloved minions when they realize what you truly are.”

  Bayard could only shake his head and then all attention was immediately focused on the Lady of the Wood and her companions as they entered the open country outside the city where the elfin folk awaited them, unwilling to mingle with the mortals within their confined castle walls. The Lady flashed them a condescending smile at such a measly escort but Bayard smiled boldly at her and she turned her attention to his brother instead, now her face a seductive masterwork. Garot was immediately caught in her spell and grew even worse as they entered the shadow of the Wood, so entranced was he that he did not notice the changes immediately wrought in his companions, but the elves accompanying the Lady murmured darkly amongst themselves while she barely contained her triumphant grin.

  Bayard was surprised the horses allowed themselves to be ridden into the Wood, especially in the presence of the now exposed Wraiths, but the Lady whispered quietly to him, “the silly beasts are as enspelled as your fool brother and will remain so as long as you ride in my company.” She smirked and did not bother to hide her scornful study of himself and his companions. The Messengers glowed faintly with an inner light, almost painful in the surrounding gloom of the Wood while the Wraiths were nearly lost to visible sight, fading into the perpetual twilight about them. She did not bother to comment, but smiled triumphantly and urged her horse forward, speaking quietly with the captain of her escort as she passed him by but then riding on in silence.

  The ride was interminable but the majority of the party did not experience the passage of time as mortals did and Garot was completely beyond caring about such a minor matter. At last they clattered to a stop in the midst of a dreary old ruin, its stones perpetually moist and covered in various growths of mold and mildew, a shudder ran through the hearts of the three Messengers and their shadowy counterparts watched them with thinly veiled delight, for here it was that their mortal selves had been unmade. The guard gaped and whispered quietly to the servant, “I rode blindly into the Wood that night?”

  One of the Wraiths hissed in answer, “do not be a simpleton, your horse would not have borne you thither. Rather the Wood has decided that this particular ruin is of interest at the moment and has brought us thus. The Lady can send us where she will by such a means, be silent fool and attend.”

  The Lady waited impatiently for their insipid chatter to cease and then said in grand but derogatory tones, “watch now as our plans come to fruition. That which has been promised shall now be fulfilled.” She turned cunning eyes upon the faintly glowing figures, whose radiance shone out the brighter in this place of evil, and said in quiet triumph, “watch now fools as your master’s pathetic plans come to naught.”

  The Messengers shifted uneasily in their saddles, Bayard reaching instinctively for his blade, but his hand dropped uselessly to his side even before he touched the hilt. It was not time for such a confrontation, for Garot had willingly come to this end and it was not within their power to gainsay him. Thus they stood in wretched witness to all that was about to commence, wondering what strange bargain the Lady had made with the Shadow. Said she as if in answer, “I will not yoke myself to any power greater than my own wishes and fancies, thus I will not serve either your meager Master or his vile Enemy, but I will align myself with others if it should avail me. This pathetic princeling and his shadowy associates will thus serve my whims and I theirs and we shall both gain thereby.” She then sidled her horse alongside Bayard’s and gently stroked his cheek, he flinched back at her icy touch as she whispered, “a pity I could not have taken you, your brother was hardly a challenge, but you have already sacrificed your feeble being upon the altar of a weak and distant lord. See now the futility of your service!”

  She focused her eyes upon the dazed Garot, “come darling, let us alight and walk about in these pleasant environs for a few moments.” The enthralled prince smiled wanly, her merest whim his greatest delight, and did as she asked. She took his arm and escorted him into the heart of the ruin, the others followed silently after, save her guards who remained in the outer court as she had commanded. She said in a simpering tone, “come Sire, you must be tired, let us rest here awhile.” He nodded vacantly and sat upon the flat topped stone before them. “There dear,” said she, for all the world like a doting mother, “is that not much better? Come, you must be tired, a little nap would be just the thing.” He yawned expansively in agreement, swung his legs up, and lay peacefully upon the stone, as innocently as a wee child in its own bed.

  The sight smote Bayard to the heart, even knowing it was his brother’s choice did not make it any easier to watch, especially this mockery they made of him. His soul cried desperately out to the One who had wrought it, who had called him Beloved, who had traded His own life for that of a creature of earth and dust. In answer, came a sorrow even more grievous, like unto the breaking of the world, for it was the Sorrow of the greatest of all hearts that His own children would choose willingly to live apart from all that was Good and Right and True; that some chose ashes over beauty, death over life, lies over truth. But here was the very heart of Love: that the Beloved be allowed to choose his own path and reap the consequences there upon. His Master was not powerless to stop evil and sin, but rather had chosen to allow His beloved creatures to choose their own fate, whether they would be sons of the Light or slaves of the Dark. Bayard and his companions bowed their heads at the heartrending grief of their Master, knowing that they had had their own part in that sad tale, and grateful above all things for His ever patient mercy and grace.

  The Lady broke the silent spell, “come shadow, let us complete this bargain.”

  The foremost Wraith stepped towards the stone bier and laid a hand of dark mist upon the boy’s heart. He began to chant in a fell tongue and the gloom about them darkened to starless night, broken only by the increased luminescence of the Messengers. Though they knew not the language, the meaning was clear in each mind, “you have promised much son of earth and much has been accomplished on your behalf. Hold now to the bargain you have wrought!”

  Garot gasped in agony and his flesh took on a dreadful ashen hue while the Wraith seemed to grow larger and more menacing. He withdrew his hand and bowed slightly to the Lady, “he is yours Madam.” She smiled in cruel anticipation as the shadow retreated to his former place, giving his radiant companions a triumphant grin as he passed.

  The Lady approached the stone where Garot lay as one dead and lay a hand upon his brow, saying, “awake!” His eyes fluttered open and he slowly sat up, though he stared blankly with no life in his eyes. The Messengers shuddered and the shadows smirked at their discomfiture.

  Bayard boldly proclaimed, “whatever it is you have done to him, it will have rendered him incapable of claiming the throne!”

  The Wraith snorted, “little you know, you pathetic ghost! Unlike you three phantasms, our precious Prince has not yet retired his mortality and thus is still an heir to the crown and might wed this great Lady if that should be his wish. Well?” He turned burning eyes upon the pallid Garot who nodded like one entranced. He smiled wickedly, “see, he has chosen and soon the Wood shall devour your wretched realm and all within.”

  Bayard frowned, “how can it be his conscious choice if you have rendered him insensate?”

  The Elf Queen smiled viciously, “he could fight it if he chose, but he prefers the illusion to reality, the lie to truth. He wants the throne and power and me and does not care what it costs him to accomplish it.” She turned then to the ashen faced zombie, “shall we return to your Palace my Lord?” He nodded dully and they all withdrew to the outer courtyard where the elfin escort awaited their Lady. Said she, “I
shall return in a fortnight for the wedding my Prince, and then all of your dreams shall come true.” She and her party turned their horses, the Wood shifted about them, and suddenly it was gone and only the dreadful ruins and a grim though mortal forest lay about them. The horses snorted uneasily, as if they had woken suddenly in a strange stall, but their riders again looked and felt like normal humans and the disquiet wood was gone, so soon enough they settled. Garot’s own awakening was not near so peaceable.

  His eyes again held life, but Bayard thought he preferred the blank insensibility to the terror and horror that now consumed Garot. He stared aghast at his shadowy companions, “what have you done to me?”

  Said the foremost with contempt, “only that which you promised. Rejoice, Sire, for the Lady shall be yours very soon and the crown thereafter.”

  Garot studied his withered, pallid hands, felt in horror at his cold, slack cheeks. Said he in trembling voice, “what is this? What am I?”

  The Wraith smiled coldly, “I have absorbed much of your substance Sire.” He glanced at Bayard, smiled in satisfaction, and then continued, “not entirely as I did to your brother, but enough that you will be a hopeless cripple and weakling all the rest of your days unless our master sees fit to bless you with strength and vigor in return for your service to him.”

  Despaired the poor prince, “I promised my life in service to him, not my strength for your delight!”

  “Poor, wretched princeling,” mocked the Wraith, “will you never learn your desires mean nothing to our master? You must learn to obey and accept whatever meager portion he sees fit to give you. Now let us return to the castle.” With a heavy sigh the boy turned his horse towards home, his shoulders slumped in dejection. The Wraith’s scoffing laughter echoed ceaselessly in his ears. The three Messengers followed silently after, knowing they could do nothing for the moment but worsen Garot’s misery and shame, but perhaps there was still hope that he might recoil in horror at his master’s treachery or else he would slip without struggle or fight into a valley of despair and grim acceptance, from which he would never emerge. The Wraith nearly glowed in triumph as he led the procession homewards; Garot slumped dejectedly in his saddle and his brother was grimly silent in troubled thought.

  They emerged from the woods as the sun dropped below the distant hills; the castle loomed black in the distance with here and there the faint glimmerings of torch or candle flickering like dim, scattered stars in the heavens. Bayard urged his horse towards his still silent and despairing brother, who did not even bother to look up at his approach, but when Bayard draped a cloak around his shoulders, at least he made the effort to lose himself in its folds that his changed form might not be noticed immediately by anyone upon his return. They rode silently into the keep and the Wraiths gathered up the numb prince in their wake and bore him back to his chambers while the abandoned Messengers exchanged an uneasy look, but Bayard’s eyes held a knowing light and his jaw was clenched in grim determination; he knew what he must do, even though it would be a source of great pain to more than himself. The concern in his companions’ eyes deepened as they realized what it was he intended and their pity nearly unmanned him, but suddenly he remembered Who it was he served and his courage rose within him for in the end, all would be well, no matter how dark the current night. He bowed his head in grave farewell to his friends and ventured forth to break his father’s heart.

  He found the man dozing in a great chair before a dying fire in the library, a dusty book open in his lap. Bayard studied the peaceful scene for some moments, unwilling for a time to disturb what might be his father’s last, happy repose for many years, or perhaps for all time. He turned his gaze upon the book and shook his head in wonder, for the King had fallen asleep reading fairy tales and it seemed his chosen tale concerned the Lady of the Wood herself. A log on the fire finally yielded to the will of the flames and broke in half with a crash and flurry of sparks, startling the old man awake. He gasped, looked about in his distress, and sighed to have been discovered in such a position, “ah, my son! I suppose you think me a tired old fool, eh?”

  Bayard smiled fondly at this dear old man, whom he realized he had loved more than life itself, said he, “I would never think that of you, Sir. I am sorry to startle you and to disturb your rest, but there is a matter I wish to speak upon.”

  The man motioned for his son to seat himself in the adjacent chair but the boy preferred to pace before the fire, occasionally stopping to gaze unseeing into its flickering heart. Said the King, “I have been reading up on this Lady of the Wood.” Bayard turned to face him and listened intently, finding no scorn on his face, the King continued with a wry smile, “but it seems the only information to be had on such a person is found only in the fairy tales!”

  In spite of himself, the boy grinned, “often the old tales hold more truth and wisdom than we give them credit, thinking them fit only for children when they are older and wiser than we.”

  The King returned his smile and said, “just so.” His amusement faded as he said, “what I have read sends chills through my heart. This Lady seeks to make an alliance with my heir and I cannot in good conscience give either of my sons in marriage to such a creature.” His eyes studied his son’s face, seeking how the boy himself felt about said Lady.

  Bayard met his father’s gaze evenly and said, “have no fear that I have fallen under her spell father.” The man relaxed back into his chair, but the boy could not leave his relief undisturbed, “Garot is fully in her power and she intends to wed him in a fortnight.”

  The King gaped in surprise, which was quickly replaced by a flash of fury, he snarled, “the witch! At least she shall not have the crown!”

  Bayard shook his head and then looked up with sad eyes, “that is the matter I wished to discuss with you Sire.”

  The King shivered, sensing something dreadful behind his son’s words, said he with trembling voice, “something is terribly amiss.”

  Bayard nodded, his eyes shining with unshed tears, “Sire, you must disinherit Garot.”

  The King stared, “it cannot be done for anything short of treason!”

  Bayard nodded, “aye Sir, of that he is guilty no doubt. He will have the crown and wed the Lady before the month is out unless he is stopped and she will take the Kingdom from his cold, dead hands.”

  His father frowned, “but to gain the crown he must oust both you and I! He could not be so bold, nor can I disown him for unverified plots.”

  Bayard said quietly, “it is not a plot of which I speak, Sire. He has already accomplished half of his fell intentions. You alone remain between him and the crown.”

  His father’s frown deepened, “do not be ridiculous boy! How is it you can speak such things while standing before me in the flesh? Are you plotting against me yourself even as you say he plots against the both of us?”

  Bayard bowed his head, praying for the words that would not come, he raised his gaze to that of his father and let his true nature shine through. Said he quietly, as his father gaped like a landed fish in astonishment, “he has betrayed me to the Shadow sir, it is true that I stand before you but it is not in the flesh, Garot made sure of that and now only you remain between him and the crown.”

  The man’s mouth shut with an audible snap and he was on his feet in a moment, but rather than fleeing in terror at this apparition in guise like his son, he came slowly forward, a slight frown on his face. The boy allowed his approach and stood quietly as the man studied him closely, reaching out a tentative hand to touch him. The King smiled slightly to feel something warm and solid beneath his hand as he clasped the boy’s shoulder; he found no menace or otherworldliness about the lad, save the faint glow that seemed to illuminate his entire being and the strange mix of warmth, joy, courage, and hope that sparkled in his eyes and radiated from his being. The vision suddenly vanished, cloaked again under a semblance of mortality, and they stood studying one another for a long, silent moment
. There was a knowing light in the King’s eyes, not untinged by sadness but neither consumed by despair, while his smile became rueful. At last said he, “so it is lad, yet neither are you completely lost to me it seems.”

  The boy nodded, smiling slightly to know his father had not been horrified or decimated by his news, “for a time Sir, my duties keep me here, warding your Kingdom from the evil that consumed me.”

  The King shook his head and resumed his chair, the boy at last at ease sat across from him, said the King, his rueful smile deepening, “you’ve finally lost yourself in your mother’s nonsense haven’t you?”

  The boy’s smile was joy itself and the King envied him deeply, said Bayard, “nay Sire, it is not nonsense but the very truth and the whole point of life itself. Were we not just speaking of the wisdom to be found in old tales? At the last I found such wisdom though I had fought it or ignored it all my mortal days. And it is this ‘nonsense’ alone that can spare your Kingdom from ruin and your soul from Death.”

  The old man sighed heavily, “very well, I will do as you ask. With you out of the succession and your brother as well, that leaves only your sister to claim the crown. It has been long indeed since this nation willingly put a Queen on the throne.”

  Bayard nodded, “and so it must be Sire unless you wish the Lady of the Wood to expand her borders and let the whole nation vanish into the Wood, leaving our people to her fickle mercies.”

  The King glanced uneasily at his discarded book and shivered, “and that I could never do.” He smiled wanly, “I think I had best have a word with your mother about this so-called nonsense of hers, I begin to wonder if she might not have the right of it after all.” He smiled sadly at his son, “I am glad to have the loan of you for a time, but I can also see that whatever it is you do, at last you have come into your own. You are the man I had always hoped you would become.”

  The boy flashed him a brilliant grin but a tear trickled unbidden down one cheek, “thank you Sire, but it is none of my doing but rather the grace of my Lord.” He smiled impishly, “it is also far easier to be what one ought when the selfish blinders of mortality are stripped away.” He bowed deeply and said in parting, “I hope to see you again Sire, upon that eternal morning which shall never be dimmed by tears or darkness.” Suddenly he vanished, leaving his father alone with his thoughts both joyous and sorrowful. But late that night he roused his Council of Lords from their beds and brought these grim tidings before them and before the dawning, the Princess was declared next in line for the throne.

  Bayard reappeared suddenly somewhere in the Wood, where exactly did not matter for there any place was as good as another. The Reason for his visit would soon enough present itself and all he need do was wait. In a swirl of fabulous skirts and unladylike language, the Lady of the Wood herself stepped into the gloom where the lad awaited her coming. “How dare you summon me in my own realm!” snarled she.

  The boy shook his head, “it is none of my doing, Lady, for I am merely the messenger. My Lord may summon whom He will and even you dare not oppose Him!”

  Her fury was buried under sudden terror and she reined in her wrath enough to say, “what is your message then? The sooner you have it out the sooner I may be rid of your irksome presence.”

  The boy bowed formally and said, “you still intend to wed my brother? Come what may?”

  She frowned and said in ill-contained fury, “what have you done?”

  The boy could not hide his smile, “he is no longer in line for the crown. I have told my father of his treachery and he has no choice but to remove him from the succession.”

  She stared at him aghast, “you have betrayed your own pitiful condition to your mortal kin! Now you shall have no place among them. Was the price worth it to ruin my schemes? Pathetic creature! You have lost everything and merely inconvenienced me! I shall have my chance another day, what is a thousand years to me and mine? But you have left yourself friendless and homeless in all the expanse of the mortal world! Fool! I will find your pain so amusing that it will well compensate for the minor hindrance you have caused me!” She shrieked with hysterical laughter.

  Bayard left her there, drunk with mirth, for she would not understand that he had no discomfiture for her to find funny. She was bound to this strange world with all its imperfections and could not imagine life apart from it whereas he had already passed beyond this weary sphere and though he lingered there still, he was a resident of a brighter and bigger world beyond all fear, doubt, sorrow, and death. Though a sojourner in this world of dust and shadows, he had glimpsed the far shore of his true home and therein his heart was well content. He vanished into the gloom upon the next errand his Master set him.

  He reappeared in his brother’s sitting room, the curtains were drawn and no fire burned upon the hearth or disturbed the rest of the cold candles. Two Wraiths lurked like the shadows they were in the disused corners of the room while their leader could be heard berating Garot in his bedchamber, the latter half furious, half despondent with grief. The two underlings hissed in fury when Bayard appeared uninvited in their midst; the uproar drew their leader from the bedchamber, followed by the sobs of the former prince. Sneered the creature at Bayard, “and just what are you doing here? Do you not know it is rude to enter the Prince’s chambers uninvited?”

  Bayard said coldly, “I could ask you the same. I will speak with my brother.”

  “We will attend you,” said the other, highly amused.

  Bayard shrugged, “you will find out soon enough and as it means your plans for this Kingdom are utterly ruined, I suppose this business pertains to you as well as to Garot.”

  Garot snarled from the bedchamber, “send him away! I will not see him!”

  Bayard entered the bedchamber despite his brother’s distress; he had a message to deliver and would not be gainsaid by a temper tantrum. He looked with pity upon the wasted form in the bed and gazed into his brother’s smoldering eyes, knowing Garot somehow blamed him for what had happened. Said he quietly, “I bear grim tidings brother.” His brother snarled wordlessly but he pressed on, “father has removed us both from the line of succession, neither of us shall ever be heir to the crown.”

  “What!” yelped the Wraiths and Garot in chorus.

  Bayard smiled grimly and said, “I told him of what has happened and he has no choice. Your Lady has also called off the wedding since you are no longer heir to the throne.”

  Garot collapsed into a whimpering heap while the Wraiths fell upon Bayard, weapons suddenly in hand. Bayard felt a sword in his hands and defended himself without thought, vanquishing the two lesser fiends who melted away like banished shadows and held the greater at bay for a moment before feeling the Wraith’s blade through his heart. The boy vanished in a blinding flash, leaving only the senior Wraith and the sobbing Garot in the room. Snarled the former, “this sniveling will accomplish nothing. Will you submit yourself fully to my master or shall I dispose of you permanently, as I did your brother?”

  Terror stilled the boy’s weeping and he turned horrified eyes upon the Wraith that loomed over him. “I will never become a mere shade like you! No matter your threats,” snarled he.

  The Wraith’s smile was hideous to behold as he loomed over the boy and took hold of his already wasted form. The boy cried in dismay but his wailing soon faded like a dying wind even as he himself faded from living memory. The Wraith smiled maliciously and vanished from the Kingdom entirely. The two remaining Messengers felt as if a shadow had lifted from the Kingdom and they knew the plots were at an end and so too was their duty in that land. A guard standing watch beside a certain gate at that hour gasped in astonishment to see his fellow vanish in a flash of light. The Steward, berating a certain servant for his recent inattention to his duties of late was equally astounded when the impudent creature had the nerve to disappear likewise in the midst of his tirade. The sleepers in that kingdom slept a little more soundly that n
ight, and for many a night thereafter, though none could quite say why.

  It was an ancient wood, draped in shadow and mist, but at least it was a wood in the mortal world. There was no light here in the dark of night and only an eerie twilight permeated at the height of day, but that did not stop the mist from glowing with its own radiance. A unicorn, also alight with its own glow, touched its horn to the luminescence at its feet and a boy found himself kneeling before it, his being a tremble with sheer joy in the creature’s presence. He leapt eagerly to his feet and walked silently at its shoulder as words unspoken passed between them. The creature, Who was no resident of the world, but its Maker, gave the boy a glorious smile and then faded from his perception. Bayard stood for a moment, savoring the lingering awe of his Master’s presence, and then faded himself into the whelming darkness.

  The next morning found an eager and young hunting party disturbing the ancient silence of that grim old wood with the immortal gaiety of youth. There was little of game to be found in the hushed gloom of that particular part of the forest, but it offered wide avenues for adventurous and somewhat reckless young men to test their equestrian skills. So it was that these particular young men did not take any game that day, but in eagerly challenging one another to do this or that foolish bit of riding, quickly did the day pass in much excitement and mirth. In the outer world, the sun was still setting but in that gloomy wood, full night came suddenly. The once rash adventurers found themselves caught in pitch darkness, ill prepared for a night abroad in such a wood, but thankfully the weather was fine and their saddlebags were not completely devoid of provision. It was inconvenient and uncomfortable, but it was in itself another adventure.

  But the shadows began to whisper and hint at terrible things in the darkness, fiends set to steal their very souls. The wretched lads huddled around their meager fire and stared into the depthless night with hearts quailing in terror and fear. They must submit to the darkness, it was the only way to save their lives, nay to spare their souls! The air trembled with imminent doom and the shadows prophesied horror to come, unless they sought the solace offered, but their hearts quivered to even think upon this terrible mercy, if mercy it was. Then a boy stepped out of the shadows and the horror and dread vanished, only the common dark of night remained with the ancient trees glowering overhead at the unaccustomed light of the merrily dancing fire, which itself seemed the brighter for the vanished terror. They blinked at this apparition and wondered if it had all been a dream; the boy was quite real, but the terrors of the night were only their overwrought sensibilities succumbing to the fancies inspired by the endless night about them, surely. He seemed a lad like unto themselves, but what he was doing wandering lost in the dark and pathless wood was anyone’s guess, at least he was nobly bred and clad in garments that would not shame him at court.

  Eager to speak of anything but the uneasy wood, gladly did they welcome him amongst them and great was their joy to learn he was as merry a companion as any of the party. Morning came, and only a few snarling shadows dared come near the sleeping forms gathered round the dying fire that night, but they would not approach those within its light with that wretched Messenger in their midst. He grinned insolently at them, but paid them no more heed. The pallid light of day soon roused the uneasy sleepers and they invited their erstwhile companion to accompany them back to their more usual habitation, which he gladly accepted. He had no horse, but one of the lads eagerly accepted him into the saddle behind him and they were soon off. It took the entire day to find their way out of that seething forest, but as the sun set they escaped its clutches and soon came riding into view of the great castle that loomed black upon the horizon.

  Bayard discovered he was now in one of the Kingdoms directly adjacent to his former home and the one with which his father had the most cordial relations. His claims to be a wayward nobleman of his former homeland, verified by his dress and accent, along with the various tales he had recounted in their brief acquaintance, made him an intriguing and welcome companion. Already, the young Prince Zair was pressing him for details regarding the Princess of the neighboring realm. Bayard would have grinned outright, but he felt the shadows following and knew they intended no good towards this Kingdom or his own. The creatures could not yet take physical form, beyond an inky stain with flaming eyes, but they were eager to change that and eyed the cadre of young lordlings hungrily. Bayard wondered if there was a traitor in their midst, like unto his own brother; he shivered at the thought. With full night upon them, they arrived safely at the castle gates.

  Many were the relieved hearts that saw the lads come safely home and great was their amusement when it was all explained as a minor navigational error and the unforeseen early darkness that encroached upon such a place as accounting for their truancy. Never did they tell others nor discuss among themselves of the whispering dark. The entire court was quite intrigued with the wandering youth that rode in among them, especially those with daughters of a marriageable age, and doubly so when he denied he had any interest at all in marriage upon this particular visit. The young ladies of the court eyed him eagerly and gossiped amongst themselves as to the extent of his wealth, which made many of the young lordlings look upon him with a jealous or scornful eye. Bayard felt their disdain like a dagger in his back, but the Prince and only child of the King, was intent on wedding the Princess of the neighboring Kingdom and saw the stranger as no threat to his own interests, but rather an ally in learning more of his esteemed lady.

  They went in to a late supper and Zair insisted the boy attend him, a privilege which only increased the disdain his detractors already felt for him, but the Prince wished to learn all he could of the foreign princess and cared little for the effect it might have upon anyone’s reputation. In the corners, the shadows whispered and added their antipathy to that already surrounding the impudent foreigner in certain hearts. Said Zair as the meal progressed, “you tell me the Princess is heir to the throne? Had she not two brothers in line before her? What unfortunate luck befell the royal family that the third child is now to inherit the crown?”

  Bayard said gravely, “aye Sire, it was grief indeed with one brother murdering the other and finding his own disgrace and a bitter end thereby, though few enough know the full tale or the final end of the treacherous prince.”

  The Prince shuddered, “does this fiendish streak then affect the lady as well?”

  Bayard smiled warmly, “nay Sire, she is the gentlest and truest heart I have ever had the privilege to know.”

  Said the Prince skeptically, “is she then dear to you?”

  Bayard smiled in understanding, “fear not Sire, she is dear to me as a sister, not a sweetheart.”

  Seeing the frankness in his companion, the Prince relaxed and said, “forgive my suspicions, but there is so much antipathy and distrust at court these days that I am wary of everyone, believing them capable of some plot or another against me.”

  Bayard gaped, “what inspires such misgivings among you?”

  The Prince shook his head, “I cannot rightly say of a certain, but things have not been the same since the new ambassador arrived from your own land but a fortnight ago.”

  Bayard stared, “to my knowledge, the King has sent no ambassador to your father. What happened to the man who formerly filled that post?”

  The Prince frowned thoughtfully, “this is grim news indeed, the last fellow left shortly after the new man arrived, never taking official leave of my father but rather fleeing quite hastily in the dead of night. The new ambassador said it was because he was found out in some embarrassing circumstance and fled in shame, but I think fear would be a better explanation.”

  Bayard nodded, “I think you have the right of it. Could I meet this infamous ambassador at some point this night?”

  The Prince shivered, “I can arrange it, but I loath even the thought of the man, much less to meet him in person.”

  Bayard said grimly, “leave tha
t to me Highness, I do not fear this scoundrel.”

  The Prince gaped, “then you are either a fool or a far bolder man than I. He gives our greatest Knights a cold shiver should their paths cross. But come, the night grows old, if we are to be about this business tonight, let us make haste.”

  They withdrew from the table and the Prince led him to the wing of the castle where foreign dignitaries were quartered. The fellow did not deign to appear at public meals, choosing rather to have his repast served in his own chambers and he would not bother himself to attend a meal in celebration of the return of the Prince and his fellows after their foolish misadventure. He was quite disgusted to have his privacy invaded by said Prince, especially at such an hour, but he dared not voice his disdain, at least not yet. He was quite aghast to hear the reason for the Prince’s unseemly visit and gaped outright upon recognizing Bayard.

  Bayard bowed stiffly to the imposter and said to the Prince, “I have seen enough Majesty, let us to your father at once.”

  Hissed the Wraith, lately the greatest of Garot’s entourage, “and whose word shall he take boy? A common vagrant or an official diplomat?”

  Bayard laughed openly, “you are no more an ambassador than I am a King! Get you gone sir, before things go ill for you.”

  The creature seethed, “do you threaten me, boy?”

  Bayard grinned coldly, “nay sir, I promise to do as I must. Twice now have you bested me, let us hope it shall not be so again.”

  Snarled the other, “come in then and let us settle this as gentlemen.”

  The Prince blinked, “you would accept a challenge from this man and attempt the duel in private?”

  Bayard shook his head, “it may be the easiest way to settle the matter Sire, fear not for me, but inform your father that this man is a villain who was involved in the grief that bereft the neighboring King of both his sons.”

  The creature snarled in an uncouth tongue but held wide the door; Bayard gave his companion a grim nod as he vanished within, the door slamming behind him. The Prince shuddered and ran to carry the tale to his father. Bayard looked about at the overcrowded sitting room, where far too much furniture tried to occupy too little space. It would be an awkward place to fight a duel, had the sparring partners not been oblivious to more material concerns. The boy grew suddenly misty and his being pulsed with an eager light while the Wraith’s features darkened until they became nearly imperceptible. The silken sofas and ancient chairs posed no impediment to the pair as they whirled about, swords clashing, for they could walk right through the offending furniture if necessary, or jump upon it if preferred. A pounding upon the door drew both combatants up sharply. They exchanged a grim nod, sheathed their blades, and resumed their mortal guises even as the guards forced wide the door.

  The wraith smiled broadly at his young nemesis, “not bad lad, not bad at all. You will become a fearsome adversary indeed, in a thousand years, more or less.” He laughed harshly and allowed the guards to drag him unceremoniously from the room and was delighted to see the impudent Messenger receiving the same treatment. They were cast into the dungeon, in separate cells of course, and warned that such behavior would not be tolerated by the King, no matter their barbaric customs at home, and that His Highness would hear their case whenever it was convenient to himself. Until then they could just rot in the dungeon and think upon their incivility. Once they were alone, the wraith hissed, “shall we resume then or await our audience with the King like good little prisoners?”

  Bayard shook his head, “I assume if vanquished you would simply return, as would I. Let us avoid an indecorous show that might arouse questions neither of us would wish to answer and await our trial as the dutiful children we are.” He grinned vastly at his own quip and the wraith shook his head, pretending to snarl but the corners of his mouth were twitching suspiciously.

  Said he at last, “very good, such a display would accomplish nothing in the end. We must leave it to the King’s discretion.” He laughed heartily, “I wonder what the silly creatures would think if they knew these walls and chains could never hold us unless we wished them to? We remain imprisoned only to maintain appearances and for no other reason.”

  Bayard sighed and sat against the far wall, wondering how long the aggrieved King would leave them to molder in the dungeon and what the Prince thought of the matter. The wraith tried several times to bait the boy or encourage him in some lively discussion, but Bayard ignored him and focused on his own thoughts, plans, and the words his Master had spoken of what was to come. Some hours later, a relatively bright light invaded the utter dark of the cells, though neither of the prisoners had need of such a convenience. Bayard blinked in astonishment to recognize the young lord with whom he had ridden back to the castle. The lad stared at him, frowning grimly and studying him as he might a dangerous animal. Bayard felt the whispers of various Shades at the boy’s back and wondered what vile lies they were using to poison the young lord’s heart.

  The wraith stirred, causing the boy to jump and nearly drop his lantern; he had forgotten the other man was also imprisoned with this perplexing stranger. He spoke at last, “who or what are you?”

  Bayard frowned in perplexity, “what kind of a question is that?”

  Kipril said harshly, “I know there is something dreadfully wrong about you. You will not succeed in the evil you intend.”

  Bayard blinked in astonishment, “evil?”

  The boy laughed hollowly, “your vile intentions are not unknown to me. Who are you? Mortal men do not just wander at random through that cursed wood in the middle of the night! I saw a branch slash your cheek as we rode yet you did not bleed nor do you bear a cut. And the tales you have told to justify attacking this man in his own quarters! There is a dark and evil aura all about you! You will never have her!”

  Bayard stared, was that what the shades were whispering? That he was of their ilk? He would have laughed would it not have insulted the boy’s dignity beyond all repair. There was just enough truth in his assertions to make him suspicious, and when nudged with lies from his shadowy escort, he would likely believe the worst of the imprisoned lad. Her? No doubt he felt his lady also imperiled and endangered love would only add to his fury. Lovely! Said he calmly, “you have nothing to fear from me.”

  The boy scoffed, “a likely story! I will do whatever I must to spare my lady from your plots.”

  Said the wraith, “you cannot defeat this creature as you are, you must become something greater than a mortal man.”

  The boy shuddered, “why should I trust you any more than he?”

  Suddenly the wraith was glowing like an earthbound star and he said in a beautiful and reassuring voice, “for I am the sworn enemy of this creature and his ilk. Only the Light can defeat the Dark. Will you join the fight?”

  Kipril was mesmerized by the musical voice and the sheer beauty of the vision before him, Bayard could see it for the deception it was, but the boy was entranced, murmured he, “what must I do? I must protect my beloved.”

  “Certainly,” said the dulcet voice, “simply give yourself into the keeping of my companions and you shall become one of us.”

  The boy nodded vacantly, as if in a trance, and the shades immediately set upon him. He woke suddenly, as if doused with icy water, wailed he, “what? No! It is a lie! Forgive me my Lord, I did not see...” He faded away as the shadows absorbed him utterly.

  The wraith snarled, “a pity that, he would have made a splendid shade, instead he saw through my deception at the last.” He turned furious eyes on Bayard, “and just like you, he threw himself on the mercy of your thrice cursed Master ere the end! You creatures are so utterly pathetic. My shades have been whispering in his ear for weeks, preparing him for just such a moment. Your arrival was the perfect circumstance to spring the trap, but no, he has to remember his fickle faith at the last moment. He had turned his back on it quite nicely in the last few weeks and I was certain h
e would be mine. Ah well, there are plenty of others.”

  Bayard shuddered in horror at what he had just witnessed and at the wraith’s casual dismissal of the complete destruction of a mortal life, as if it were of no more account than an irritating insect. But he was also reminded that there was far more to life than what could be seen and felt by mortal men, and that even at the last, like himself, the boy had been spared the hopelessness of utter night. He collapsed gratefully against the wall and pondered the wondrous grace offered freely to such fickle and selfish creatures, if only they would accept it.

  Kipril woke with a shudder, what a horrid dream! But he sighed in relief, only a dream, but certainly no fit death for a great lord’s son. He shuddered again and summoned his servant that he might ready himself for the day, hoping to meet his lady at breakfast. He needed a good dose of reality to wash away the horrors of his nocturnal visions, and the inane, birdlike chatter of his betrothed was just the sort of mind-numbing therapy he needed to free himself of this ridiculous sense of revulsion over something so juvenile as a nightmare. He was quickly attired for the morning repast and made his way with far more alacrity than usual down to the dining hall in search of distraction and relief. He shuddered again even as he thought about it. There had been more to the dream, far more, but for now all that lingered in his mind was that horrid end, with him yowling like a forsaken cat and then just ceasing to be! He hastened his already quick steps; no, just a nightmare and nothing more.

  Julia met him with a smile and a blushing curtsy as he came in the door; he returned the courtesy and gladly gave himself over to her endless prattle about all that had happened since the evening meal. He was helping himself to some toast when her words finally registered, he dropped the bread in astonishment, cried he in dismay, “what did you say?”

  She tittered nervously and said, “why darling, that stranger who came in with your party last evening tried to murder one of the King’s ambassadors in his own chamber! It was quite dreadful, both have been imprisoned until the King can sort the matter out.” She fanned herself in agitation and Kipril tried to regain his composure. He had thought it all a dream, but if the pair had truly been arrested...how much more of it was true? He rose shakily, intent on interviewing the prisoners once more. His lady said tremulously, “are you well darling?”

  Kipril shook his head and said quietly, “I do not know my dear, but there is a matter I must see to immediately, pray excuse me.” He bolted from the room as if it contained the pox.

  Julia smiled brittlely and turned to the lady on her far side; they began whispering wildly even before Kipril was out the door. If her fiancé was going to start acting strangely three weeks before their wedding, at least she could find solace in whatever gossip she could glean or spread about the matter. Perhaps this was not such a worrying turn of events after all, no matter how it ended. She was assured of being quite vital and popular in certain quarters, for a month or more if things were as she feared, and secretly hoped they might truly be. More ladies gathered about the pair and soon the whole castle was buzzing in anticipation.

  Meanwhile, Kipril hied himself down to the dungeons once more, another shudder wracking his being as he approached the scene of what he still desperately hoped was a nightmare. The guards were reluctant to let him by, but as his father was a powerful man, they had little choice. He descended into the cellblock, empty save for the two infamous duelists, and the first thing his eyes fell upon was the shattered lantern against the wall where he had been standing. It could be a coincidence. The dark chuckles of the ambassador laid all doubt irrevocably aside, said he in great amusement, “you don’t believe it, do you?!” He did not wait for a reply but drew to the far corner of his cell and began laughing in earnest.

  Bayard stood in the middle of his cell, watching the perplexed lad with a mixture of interest, pity, and amusement, remembering his own confusion in such a circumstance. Their eyes met and they studied one another silently for a long moment, at last the boy said quietly, “you are not evil.”

  Bayard grinned whole-heartedly, “at least you understood before the end.” He grimaced, “otherwise it would have ended quite differently.”

  Kipril stared in horror, “it is all true then? What do you mean differently? I do not understand what has happened.” He swallowed hard, “I should not even be here, if it really happened.”

  Bayard said quietly, “had you not resisted them, you would have become one of them.”

  The boy squeaked in horror, “but to die like that!”

  Bayard shook his head, “at least you will not have all eternity to live thus.”

  The boy nodded dully, “you do have a point.” He studied Bayard for a moment and frowned, “this is not the first time you have witnessed something like this?”

  Bayard smiled wryly, “it was my own end as well, perpetrated by none other than our famed ambassador and his cronies.”

  Kipril smiled weakly, “you intended to murder him in his own chambers, indeed! To think such a creature might have had the King’s ear!” Suddenly the rest of his ‘dream’ recurred to him and his smile might have shamed the sun for radiance.

  Bayard laughed for very joy, “it seems you remember more than the nightmarish beginning.”

  Kipril nodded eagerly and laughed for sheer wonder, “indeed I do! My end was wretched, pitiful even, but that was not The End, nay it was only the beginning.” He stared stonily at the wraith, “to think what a fool I was to listen to the wild prattling of your shadowy minions! I was fortunate it only cost me my life, it might have been my very soul!” He said in grim anticipation, “but now I have the chance to end your vile influence over other susceptible souls.” He cocked his head at Bayard, “did you truly know the Princess of whom our Prince seems so fond?”

  Bayard smiled sadly, “she is my sister, or rather was, I suppose I should say.”

  Kipril blanched, “the tale of the aggrieved King?”

  Bayard nodded, “my brother made a bargain with our Master’s greatest enemy and set these Fiends upon me; I ended just as you did.” He smiled ruefully, “I even awoke the next morning completely oblivious. At least it has not taken you a full day to figure it out. I revealed my brother’s treachery to my father and he was removed from the line of succession in favor of my sister; he was utterly consumed by evil shortly thereafter.”

  Kipril blinked in surprise to find himself in Bayard’s cell, apparently approaching unawares as he listened to the tale. Bayard laughed, “there is much you will have to learn about our occupation, but the first thing to remember is that we are no longer bound by mortal constraints.”

  Kipril smiled in spite of himself, “you are telling me you could just walk out the front door and no one could stop you?”

  Bayard barked a laugh, “quite, but for the moment we are both trying to maintain appearances so have refrained from any questionable behavior.”

  Kipril joined in his mirth at the absurdity of the situation and then turned curious eyes on the wraith, “that creature said a mortal man could not destroy you? But I begin to think that we cannot be truly destroyed or even killed.”

  Bayard nodded, “our shadowy counterparts can banish us for a time with a mortal blow, as we can them, but having tasted once of death, we can no longer truly die, for that is appointed only once for mortal men.”

  Kipril frowned, “so you challenged this fiend to a duel in hopes of ridding the Kingdom of his influence for a few moments and now wait politely in the dungeon for the King’s convenience?”

  Bayard smiled ruefully, “it was not the most brilliant plan I have ever had, and actually it was he that challenged me. Twice has he bested me in such a contest and I thought to return the favor, little thinking of what my actions might precipitate.”

  The wraith barked a laugh, “insipid little creature! Someday you will learn to think before you act, until then my job will be the easier.”

  There came no
reply as the outer door was thrown open and a troop of soldiers crowded into the antechamber. They blinked in surprise but maintained their stony calm when they saw Kipril inside the cell with one of the prisoners. Barked their captain, “you are to appear before the King this very hour, give us no trouble or else.” The doors were opened and the prisoners securely bound and placed in the midst of the guards before being marched into His Royal Majesty’s presence; Kipril, for his apparent collusion with the condemned found himself receiving similar treatment and dark looks from the guardsmen. The entire court had gathered in the King’s grand audience chamber to hear the outcome of this strange case, many were the gasps and murmurs to see the son of one the Kingdom’s greatest lords marched in with the condemned. Julia’s heart gave a strange, excited flutter; there might be no wedding but here was fodder for gossip to last her many a year!

  The King sat on his throne and leisurely awaited the prisoners, the Prince stood at his shoulder looking annoyed, and Kipril’s father made his way to the fore when he glimpsed his son amidst the party; his countenance was far from pleasant and for a moment, Kipril was quite thankful a man could die but once. They were herded towards the King, then driven to their knees, and forced to look up as penitents into his scowling face. Groused he, “what is this nonsense about and why must it disrupt my entire Kingdom? We do not approve of dueling in this country, especially in private, no matter what fads you foreigners seems to think appropriate!” There were several murmurs of, “yes Highness,” from the prisoners and he continued, “and what is Lord Grelve’s son doing in your midst?”

  The captain said in astonishment, “I cannot say exactly Highness, he demanded an audience with the prisoners, we dared not refuse him, and when we came down to fetch them for the audience, he was in the same cell as the boy there; without a key and the door still locked!”

  Grelve barked at his son, “what is going on? Why have you anything to do with these reprobates in the first place?”

  Kipril looked at the floor and scuffed at the marble with his booted toe, “I thought one of them was a threat to my betrothed and I was determined to see that his scheming came to naught. I was quite mistaken, sir, and have certainly paid for my folly.”

  The King frowned, “but how did you get into the prisoner’s cell?”

  The boy sheepishly shrugged, “that even I do not know, Sire.”

  The King shook his head grimly, “it is all quite uncanny! What am I to do with the lot of you? I will not have such unruly foreigners in my midst, I think I shall banish the lot of you and should you return without my leave, it will be under pain of death.” He glowered at Kipril, “for your folly, you can suffer the same fate. Captain, escort them to the border!”

  The captain bowed, said “yes Majesty,” and hurried his prisoners from the King’s presence; Prince Zair and Lord Grelve followed gravely after. The guards escorted the trio to the courtyard where they intended to wait until their horses were ready, but the Prince and Lord Grelve waylaid them. The captain tried to argue, but he could not do so for very long without risking both his position and his head, thus he relented and allowed each to have their turn at the prisoners.

  Grelve immediately tore into his son, “you are a disgrace! I never want to see you again! Go, and never return. I hereby disinherit you and your wedding is certainly canceled!” He gave the astonished gathering one last scowl and vanished back into the keep.

  The Prince gathered his composure and said to Bayard and the disinherited lordling, “I am sorry my father was so harsh and hasty with his judgments, but he is as jumpy as the rest of us of late and sees traitors under every rock. I will be leaving myself on a visit of state to the neighboring realm,” his smile warmed significantly, “and in hopes of courting a certain lady, I would be much obliged with your company.” The captain made to protest and Zair snapped, “you will send an escort, of course captain, and see them to the borders but they will ride as noble guests, not as prisoners. That other fellow you may do with as you please.” They turned to look at the wraith but he was gone. They all stared in amazement, the Messengers alone knowing how the fiend escaped without anyone noticing.

  Bayard was the first to speak, “we will gladly accompany you sire, and as for the vanished fiend, he is a worker of foul magics and you will never catch him unless he wants to be found. Do not waste time or manpower in vain pursuit.” He turned his somber gaze upon the captain, who nodded gravely. Word of this would never get back to the King: either of the Prince’s bizarre escort or the vanished villain. They were soon in their saddles and upon their way.

  The captain sent six of his best men with the young Prince, but the boy refused any other escort save his two uncanny companions, but his father had agreed that if this journey must be made, as the boy insisted it must, that the least number of companions possible should be sent and the departure made so quietly that the Prince would not be missed for perhaps a full day, thus to reduce the likelihood of treachery, the possibility of which lowered over the Kingdom like a grim fog of late. Perhaps with the wraith’s disappearance, the feeling too would dissipate. The King however, would have been aghast to know how and with whom the Prince had set off, but the lad subscribed to that ancient school of thought that decried, “it is better to ask forgiveness than permission,” or the even older school, known innately to little boys everywhere, “you don’t need forgiveness or permission if your parents never know.”

  Bayard was reluctant to leave the Kingdom unwarded so soon after a Shadow infestation, but he also felt that his skills would be of far more use to the young Prince on the journey before them, especially with that wraith at large. So it was, they rode out into the rising day, all but the Prince uneasy about his Majesty’s safety, but that was their concern and not his; he was a young man, and a rich one at that, and the whole world lay before him. He was determined to enjoy it. The guardsmen trusted neither the boy’s companions nor anyone they might meet or who might be lurking upon the path they would take. The Messengers were wary of foes the guardsmen could not even begin to imagine even in their darkest dreams, and for this the pair was thankful, no mortal man should know such horrors and live indefinitely helpless in their shadow, though the Kingdom had suffered as much in recent weeks, they knew little enough of the source of their unease.

  The day passed quietly enough and their road wound through that ancient wood where this particular adventure had begun. Zair said as he urged his horse among the hoary trees, “it can be a hateful place, especially at night, but it is still quite a natural forest and will cut three days from our ride by going through rather than around.” The others nodded their grim acceptance, having no real choice but forced to follow wherever their lord led. Night fell suddenly, as it always did in that place and the group settled down to make camp; the lieutenant in charge of the guards set a double watch, uneasy as he was in the shadow of those ill-feeling trees amid this unnatural night. The three young nobles sat apart from their escort and chatted quietly amongst themselves, the soldiers giving all but their Prince an uneasy look whenever they felt themselves unobserved. The Messengers felt their unease and wondered what use their enemies might make of it.

  As the lads settled into their blankets, Bayard whispered quietly to Kipril, “I will pay my father a short visit, ward the camp while I am gone.”

  The disinherited lord gaped, “what am I to do if the Shadows come?”

  Bayard smiled eagerly, “defend the Prince! You are no helpless child now; you are an even match for their vile powers.”

  The boy’s grin nearly split his face asunder, “you are correct, I am still so new to this that I quite forgot myself. I will ward him well. How long will you be gone?”

  Bayard replied with a catlike smile, “probably only a few minutes. Time means as little to us now as death. Farewell.” He rose from his place, muttered something about taking a walk to anyone who might be listening, and was swallowed by the tree shadows,
as if he had never been. The lieutenant eyed him suspiciously and motioned for one of the guards to follow the fellow. Who willingly wandered alone in such a place at such an hour? Kipril watched him go with a shake of his head and returned to watching the night; the Prince slept on unawares.

  Feeling himself utterly alone, Bayard immediately melted into the mist that was creeping out of the low places and wandering blindly about the feet of the trees. The following guardsman tracked the boy to that place, but could see and hear nothing, wondering what had come of his quarry. He settled down to wait, knowing he could easily lose himself in the wood if he stumbled about blindly in the dark and that his quarry could not have gone far. The boy in fact was physically in the next realm over, even now informing his father of the upcoming visit of Prince Zair and its implications, especially that a particular shadowy fiend had an unhealthy interest in the venture. The man was delighted to see his son again and looked forward to their reunion, though Bayard asked that he not inform the imminent Prince that he had once been a prince of the realm himself. The King agreed but mentioned he might want to change his appearance, if he could do such a thing, if he wished to avoid awkward questions from his former kin and acquaintances. The boy smiled sheepishly, agreed heartily, and after bidding his father farewell, vanished back to the stygian wood the moment after he had left. The soldier was on his feet in a moment, thinking the moon had finally breached those wretched trees and in its pale light, he made his move.

  It was in fact Bayard himself that was the source of the light, but he felt the imminent approach of the man and swathed himself in mortal guise once more. The man could no longer see but he knew whither his quarry lay and easily tackled the far smaller lad, hissing, “what are you up to, fiend?”

  Bayard blinked in surprise, but said quite calmly, “just out for a stroll.”

  The guard shook his head, “only villains or mad men are abroad at night in this forsaken wood!”

  “Quite right,” came a new voice, this one full of malice and mirth, “someone get me a light.” The light appeared, revealing as disreputable a gathering of men as Bayard had ever laid eyes on, though they were not to see him, at least not yet, for he had vanished from mortal perception the moment the strange voice had spoken. The speaker smiled villainously and drew his sword; the unfortunate guard’s eyes were wide with shock and horror, not only for fear of his life and the surprise of the bandits, but he had had a firm hold on the boy and the next moment he had melted away like so much mist, but now all he could think about was the pain and whether he was capable of drawing one more breath.

  Bayard could do nothing for the captured guard, but he could alert the others that attack was imminent; quick as thought he vanished back to the encampment, appearing again in physical form in the shadows just outside it, and then hastening back into the camp. He found a sword at his throat with the grim looking lieutenant at the other end. A strangled cry sounded in the darkness beyond and the soldier paled in terror, gasped he, “where is my armsman?”

  Bayard shook his head gravely, “bandits, eight of them! There was naught I could do and they will fall upon the camp shortly, I must speak with the Prince.”

  The lieutenant growled, “you will go nowhere near his Highness, villain.”

  An authoritative throat being cleared sounded nearby and both men looked towards the official sounding cue, said the Prince, “let the boy be lieutenant, we have more important matters to discuss, such as how to survive this imminent attack?”

  Bayard said boldly, the sword still at his throat, “I will return to the villains Sire and inform them that your company is asleep and unawares, seemingly betraying you in hopes they spare my life. Meanwhile, I suggest you heap up your blankets to make it appear your men still sleep while you hide yourselves in ambush in the shadows just outside the camp.”

  The Prince and lieutenant both nodded, it was a good idea and their best chance, but the Prince frowned, “will you not be taking a great risk, throwing yourself on the mercy of these fiends?”

  Bayard eyed the lieutenant stonily, “perhaps Sire, but as I could do nothing for our unfortunate companion, let us hope I can be of more benefit to the rest of you.” The man had lowered his sword and gave the intrepid boy a grave nod, though whether in farewell, as an apology, or in acknowledgement of the risk he took, Bayard was unsure. He saluted the Prince and vanished again into the shadows outside the camp, covering the distance in the blink of an eye. The Prince and his lieutenant exchanged a grim look and then hastened to make ready the ambush.

  Bayard entered the island of light amidst the sea of darkness eked out precariously by a flickering lantern wherein the bandits towered over the mortally wounded guard, from whom their leader was trying to extract information as to his companions and their precise location. Said the boy at their backs, causing all eyes to turn on him suddenly and every hand to reach for a weapon, “let the fellow die in peace, if it is information you want, perhaps I can avail you.” He glanced nervously into the dark and then back to the bandits, “only spare my life.”

  The bandits eyed him stonily but with anticipation while the moribund guard gave him such a look of revulsion that for a moment he felt a veritable traitor. The leader of the thieves dropped the failing form of the guard, rose from his crouch, and glowered at the boy, “speak and then we’ll decide what comes of you. Where is the camp? What of the occupants?”

  Bayard shivered involuntarily and said, “you’ll find them about a bow shot in that direction. The camp itself is quiet as a tomb, you’ll find no one stirring and even the sentries are strangely silent.”

  “Very well,” said the bandit king thoughtfully stroking his chin, “if it is as you say, you have ransomed your life, but if things go ill, I shall know where to find you. Wait here.” He ordered his men on towards the camp with all haste and left the boy alone with the dying man and the guttering lamp.

  The man was failing quickly, but his outrage gave him presence of mind enough to glare at the treacherous boy for all he was worth and gasp out, “coward! You betray the entire camp to save your own skin? I knew there was something odd about you, but I had not thought it was a rotten heart!” His tirade was cut short by a bout of spastic coughing which left him pale and gasping.

  A sudden awe fell upon him even as the lamp sputtered and died, but a different light filled the macabre scene, as if a star had strayed from the heavens to walk among mortal men. Both men were silent in wonder, Bayard was on his knees with head bowed while the dying man could only gape in awe and terror, unable to move or speak. The Unicorn looked from one to the other with eyes that could penetrate their very souls and knew intimately the minutest part of their beings. His gaze settled on the moribund guard, who now trembled in both joy and terror, the horrors of the day forgotten and all that now mattered was this wonderful and awful vision before him. The Unicorn nuzzled the stricken man gently, Bayard heard a whispered, “hush child,” and then the light blazed forth with such intensity that he felt himself unmade, or at least his physical form was extinguished like a candle flame in a gust of wind.

  Everything was darkness, save for an eerie glow of moonlight caught in the vagrant mist in that particular patch of the hoary wood, though the moon never penetrated the dense canopy above. Bayard blinked, or whatever the equivalent was in his current form, and slowly realized he could think once more. The indescribable radiance and wonder that had consumed him left no room or need for anything else. He glowed joyfully in remembrance but soon realized where he was and pulled himself together. He was again a mortal lad in a forsaken wood with a murderous band of thieves intent on mischief not a bowshot from where he sat; he gazed about and his eyes fell sadly upon the unmoving form of the guard, but there was nothing now to be done for the wretched man. He frowned in thought and then smiled at his own blindness, he could see quite well in the dark but it was not completely dark about him, for the mist still glowed with its own subtle light.
He laughed for joy and called out, “come, this is no time for reticence! We have work to be about.”

  The mist gathered itself together and a manlike form, both joyous and perplexed, stepped into being. The luminescence retreated but neither Messenger had trouble seeing in the pitch dark. They studied one another for a long a moment, until at last the former guardsman smiled in wonder and embarrassment, “I had everything completely backwards, did I not? You are not the villain at all.” He looked longingly in the direction of the camp, “you will keep a close eye on the Prince then?” Bayard nodded, the other smiled, and said in farewell, “then I shall leave him in your capable hands while I return to ward the King and his court. Farewell!” He faded away and Bayard did likewise.

  He reappeared on the outskirts of the camp just as the last bandit fell with a well placed stroke by one of the guards. Several of the armsmen bore minor wounds, but otherwise all had escaped unscathed; the same could not be said for the bandits, the last of which moaned quietly and then silence engulfed the astonished camp as all took in the miraculous fact that they had survived. The Prince saw Bayard lingering hesitantly on the verge of the light cast from the scattered embers and exuberantly ran to meet him; the lieutenant eyed him coldly but put away his sword. Bayard made his courtesies to the Prince and then said to the lieutenant, “your man is dead, sir.” The man nodded grimly, muttered something about the necessities of war, and then he wandered out of hearing distance, leaving the Prince and Messenger alone as the rest of the guards began setting the camp in order. The Prince recounted the rousing tale and his part in it, asked after Bayard’s own, and then they all gathered round the rekindled fire for some much needed rest and companionship, though there would be no more sleep that night. As soon as there was the faintest hint of light in that old wood, the party was immediately in their saddles and hoping to reach the far side by nightfall.

  They passed through that forbidden wood with all haste the next day without incident and gladly did they spend that night under all the stars of heaven. As they mounted up the next morning, Bayard drew Kipril and the Prince momentarily aside and said, “you both know I am a noble exile from the Kingdom we are swiftly approaching and that great tragedy has happened of late within the Royal family itself, depriving the King of both his sons.”

  The Prince’s eyes grew wide with concern, “you are not saying that you had some part in this tragedy and were thus banished?”

  Bayard smiled sadly, “aye and no Sire, I was no part of the conspiracy but bore my share of the sorrow in the betrayal of one brother of the other. Both mysteriously vanished and few know the full truth of the matter, leaving the Princess the King’s sole child and heir. After all that has happened, few will deign to look upon me or acknowledge my existence, so do not be surprised when I am not welcomed as one of their own; my presence will not hinder your own aspirations but neither will I be a boon to your fortunes either.”

  The Prince bore a wan smile, nodded thoughtfully, and said, “very well, you have been a helpful and faithful companion thus far and I would in nowise cast you aside. Let us away, the sooner to reach our destination and perhaps learn the full truth of the matter.” They heartily agreed and hastened into their saddles and were soon off upon the next leg of their journey, which passed without surprise or incident.

  As they stopped at midday to rest the horses and refresh themselves, Bayard crept away from the main party to peer at his own reflection a bit upstream from where they had watered the horses. He smiled ruefully to see a face not his own. In all the excitement of his recent adventures he had never thought to consider his own appearance, but it seemed his Master had provided in advance that which he would need. He smiled to know that none of his own folk would recognize him and his current companions were none the wiser that this was not the face with which he was born. Kipril knelt beside him and gazed curiously into the stream, asking, “trying to catch some trout?”

  Bayard smiled ruefully and quickly explained his predicament. Kipril said heartily, “fear not, for it seems all that we need is already or will be provided. How will your heart fare in returning to the scene of such sorrow and grief?”

  Bayard looked again at the stranger in the brook before smiling sadly at Kipril, “it will not be easy I think, but neither will it rend my heart as once it might, ere I found fulfillment in our Master.” He stood and said, “come, we had best get back to the others ere we are missed.” They walked companionably back to where the others sat eating their midday meal and Bayard silently thanked his Master for His provision, joy, and love, his heart lighter than it had ever been, fully content that whatever betide, the Master was all he would ever need or want.

  A few days later, the company rode up to the gates of the castle that had once been Bayard’s home; it was both a joy and a grief to the lad to return thus in a stranger’s guise, but he was glad to see his home once more, however briefly. They drew rein outside the gates while the guards looked on curiously, wondering who these strange visitors might be, for no great lord would come so ill-accompanied yet that is exactly what he claimed to be: a prince of the neighboring realm! Zair handed a letter from his father, the King, to the hastily arrived Steward who then rushed off to inform the King, who strangely seemed to be anticipating the new arrivals, and even more surprisingly, came himself to the gates to make their acquaintance, a breach of protocol so grievous that the steward swooned and was left bedridden for two full days afterwards.

  The company was welcomed heartily by one and all, though all were still rather perplexed as to who these strangers were and why the King would visit them personally, but they had no wish to insult the King so exuberantly followed suite. Once the party had had time to unpack and refresh themselves, the King summoned the Prince and his two companions to his personal library that they might talk privately and at leisure. The Prince was quite overwhelmed by such a show of familiarity, but Bayard assured him that though the Steward required the utmost adherence to protocol, the King was far from compliant and often chose to treat guests in a far more informal fashion, especially those who might one day be part of the family. Zair’s father was never so relaxed or easy-going, even with his own family! So it was that a relieved and astonished Zair found himself chatting freely with his father’s greatest ally, as if they were long acquainted, perhaps a doting uncle with his favorite nephew.

  While they spoke upon many and various topics, the King silently studied the boy’s two companions, trying to discern which of the strange faces hid his son. As the hour grew late, the King stood, yawning expansively, and saying, “it has truly been a pleasure, Sir, and one we must soon repeat, but for my own sake and yours, let us try and get some sleep ere morning.”

  The Prince stood as the King did, made the proper courtesies, and then withdrew with many fond wishes for a good night’s repose. The two Messengers followed the Prince from the room, but Bayard turned to face his father, who watched them go with far too much interest, and gave him a brief nod and a wink. The King smiled impishly, a gesture that might have killed the poor steward had he seen it, and winked in return. They saw the Prince tucked soundly into bed; while Kipril kept watch, Bayard returned to his father’s library, invisible to all eyes until he was safely within the room.

  He appeared suddenly before the King in his usual guise and smiled warmly for a moment before his Majesty engulfed him in a very unkingly hug. Once the greetings had been formally accomplished, both pulled up a chair and smiled joyously at one another, at last the King broached, “tell me of this Prince of yours, is he a fit match for your sister?”

  They spent some little time speaking of the business end of Bayard’s visit, but soon they turned to matters pertaining to their family and acquaintances, happenings in the Kingdom of late, and so forth. At last the conversation came around to Bayard’s strange occupation and the family’s reaction to the loss of their sons. Said the King, “it has not been easy, losing both of you
that way, but knowing I have not lost you utterly has been of great comfort to me and mine. Now what of you, are you content in this quest you have undertaken?”

  Bayard smiled thoughtfully, “yes Sire, I have never been happier or more content, I have truly found my place and my purpose. How does my sister feel about the prospect of being Queen?”

  The King smiled conspiratorially, “she is both eager and rather overwhelmed by it, mostly because she is loath to choose a husband, doubting she can find a man of which I can approve and yet she can be fond. This Prince of yours might be just the thing, and who knows, perhaps he will unite our two realms! Contrary to his own advice, the King did not sleep at all that night, but as dawn broke upon the world, he chivied his son off that the servants not catch them in such uncouth activities.

  Bayard ghosted into the Prince’s chambers, unseen just as the ever-watchful Kipril, who said upon his return, “nothing at all interesting happened last night. How was your chat with your father?” He smiled impishly, “when do I get to go have an adventure and leave you to mind his Majesty?”

  Bayard grinned and said, “his Highness shall meet the Princess today, that should be adventure enough for any of us.” Kipril made a face, remembering his own near escape from the clutches of what he now realized was a rather insipid and vain lady. Bayard laughed, “fear not, my sister is nowhere near so vacuous as your former lady.”

  The Prince groaned in his sleep and rolled over, the Messengers exchanged a knowing smile and then retreated from the chamber, though still unseen. His Majesty was up an hour later, dressed and ready for the day, but nervous as a noble youth on his first boar hunt. Asked he of Bayard, who met him in the hall outside his chambers, “what is she like, this Princess of yours.”

  Bayard grinned, “we have discussed this already Highness, all that remains is for you to meet and make your own appraisal. Now let us go down to breakfast and perhaps you shall have your chance later this morning.” The boy sighed reluctantly but allowed his companions to herd him down to breakfast, which seemed to revive his nerve; it was an eager rather than a nervous young man who presented himself at a small reception in his honor immediately after breakfast. The King, Queen, and Princess were in attendance, along with a few of the higher-ranking nobles, officers, and advisors of the land, but Zair had eyes only for the Princess. They stood for a long while off to one side of the room, chatting and laughing like old friends before the Prince asked if she would like to accompany him on a tour of the gardens, to which she readily agreed. The King and Queen exchanged a pleased look while the other guests were rather miffed the outlander Prince had not so much as exchanged morning greetings with them, but he was completely enthralled by the lady.

  At last, after all the heartache and tragedy, joy had come again to that Kingdom and there was again a son in the Royal family, and after a happy span of years, when both Kings had retired from mortal striving, the two nations became one and enjoyed several generations of peace and prosperity while a war raged on unseen and unsuspected all around them between the Light and the Darkness. But happily, we already know the Light wins out and evil can only prevail for a time, after which all may know, ‘happily ever after.’

  Over the Hills and Faraway

  Susan Skylark

  Copyright 2014 Susan Skylark

 

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